An Orc's Tale
by faceted-mind
Summary: Legolas, through Sauron's foul techniques, has been made into an orc. Can the twins save him, or is he lost to them all? (LEE in future chapters, torture, elf-harm, angst, slash and twincest warnings) COMPLETE
1. Creation

An Orc's Tale

By Faceted Mind

-

Rating: R

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Pairing: Legolas/Elrohir/Elladan

Disclaimer: Tolkien would be turning in his grave. I claim to own nothing save the words on the page in front of you.

Summary: The first chapter follows the transformation of an elf to an orc as Melkor's most vile deed is recreated. (L/E/E in future chapters, torture, elf-harm, angst, slash and twincest warnings)

-

-

'It is held true by the wise of Eressëa, that all those of the Quendi who came into the hands of Melkor, ere Utumno was broken, were put there in prison, and by slow acts of cruelty were corrupted and enslaved; and thus did Melkor breed the hideous race of the Orcs in envy and mockery of the Elves, of whom they were afterwards the bitterest of foes... This it may be was the vilest deed of Melkor, and the most hateful to Ilúvatar.'

- Valaquenta, Quenta Silmarillion: Of the Coming of the Elves -

-

The halls were black. Which is not to say that they were without light, but that they were of darkness. The soft glow of elven skin in starlight would have been brilliant within these walls had any of the first race been able to hold the spirit for such illumination in these surroundings.

The will of Sauron, apprentice to Melkor, weighed down upon one poor soul. It threatened to crush his spirit before the dark lord had ever set foot in his presence. No being born beneath the stars could stay with courage in such a place. He hung by chains about his wrists from a cruel mechanism on the ceiling; holding the chains tight and keeping his feet from the floor. The strain in his arms never lessened as his arms reached to the sky and his toes only brushed the floor, not enough to ever take any weight off of his shoulders. He was bare of covering and exposed to the unconcealed eyes of his captors. Abandoned in this light-less place, no starlight would reach him in this shadowed tower, no sound of tree or water. He had not been visited for an unknown time, hours blurring with unerring ease as nothing separated one from the other. At first, when they had captured him and brought him here, the orcs had revelled in the permission granted by their master to treat him as they wished. Their existence was a bane to the elves, to have them in sustained close proximity was hellish for their captive. Beatings, whippings, brandings had occurred daily, sometimes full through the day and night as one shift finished and another took over. He felt he could almost miss it now, for he had healed near all traces and scars from his pale-white skin and boredom and isolation are harsh punishments.

Alone he was left to wonder what the Valar did with those souls whose people had never passed west into Valinor with the first of the Eldar. Was this his judgement? To exist forever here in purgatory, waiting, forgotten. Or would this isolation break him, and make him turn against his friends and kin, to pray that they would kill him first. Feeling his heart tremble at the thought he screamed his fears and anger to any that would listen, not yet knowing if he would rather his people rescue him or stay well away.

-

He woke from the half-sleep that was his rest - his shoulders ached too strongly to ever allow him true reverie as the door at his back - a large wooden affair - clanked loudly as one of the several bolts was thrown back. He stirred himself as the rest of the locks were opened and the door thrown open. The opening brought a gust of chill air that made his shudder and consequently brought a spike of pain through both shoulders, hitching his breathing as he fought not to cry out. The door shut again and heavy metallic-sounding footsteps echoed around the stone room. When the new-comer was stood in front of him - invisible in the grimy darkness - he stopped and silence was returned save for their breathing.

"Time has come for your re-education." The voice was a low hiss, hardly recognisable as words. He wished to retort, but time alone without water had left his mouth dry and his tongue useless. "I am your master. You are my servant. My wish is your command. You shall bow to me." As the stranger spoke two torches sparked up on either side of the room and spluttered with a harsh light, revealing him in all his glory. "I serve my master Sauron, as you will serve me, for he is above me and holds my life in his hands." He was an orc, the largest the prisoner had ever seen. Great scars made parallel lines across his face, missing his eyes seemingly only by chance and gouging great holes out of his nose and lips. He had undergone no torture to become what he was, for he had not been made in such a way. He had been born of mud and grime and death. A dark offspring, with no pity or compassion.

A kick knocked a lever in the wall aside and, suddenly freed, the captive collapsed to the ground, his knees jarring painfully with his arms still in chains, unable to muffle a cry of pain, wordless through cracked and parched lips. Unable to find his balance he fell the rest of the way to the floor, arms still held over his head with seized muscles as the fire of his release burned trails up and down his body. For a moment he was too dazed to do much but breathe as pain washed over him in waves. As the pain receded to give way to the more sympathetic pins and needles he slowly brought his arms down to his sides and clenched his fists against the numbness, waiting for his hands and forearms to become used to their own blood flow again. Looking down at the chains now suspended between his wrists, the prisoner wondered if he would be able to reach the visitor before he realised what he was doing. The now-loose bindings would make a good weapon and no one would mourn this one's passing.  
The stranger didn't move further, watching him it seemed. Taking a moment to gather his strength and thoughts, he took a deep breath and grasped the chain strongly in his quickly recovering hands. Rolling his weight onto the balls of his feet he launched himself forwards.

The length of chain caught the orc around the throat and the impact of the elf's shoulder with his chest took them both to the ground, the elf on top. He pressed down as hard as he was able, trying to crush the monster's windpipe with the tightening chain. He looked on in shock as the orc, not seeming to notice the chain at all, brushed him away as though he were a fly. Standing as the elf slid across the floor away from him, he grasped the end of the chain nearest to him and used it to pull him back. The jolt threw the elf to the floor again and brought him to the orc's feet. The orc looked down on him as he cringed away, hopes crushed.

"I see your re-education will be a challenge." The orc said with a terrible smile. "Good. We will have some fun while there is spirit still in you."

-

Fire burned through him as the orcs carried out their master's foul work once more. There was an emptiness to the orc-eyes as they tortured the true-elf, as though remembering their own transformations. As the edge of the room stood the visitor, his would-be master, though he had yet to give his name. He drove the orcs to their task, directing their actions, directing their hate. The elf's hands lay in ruins for he had been an archer once, this poor soul, and they had known this and so he was no longer. His first two fingers lay tattered, never to touch a bowstring again. This had been repeated on both hands for, in the heat of the moment, he had tried to withhold them their pleasure by informing them that he was fully capable of using a bow with either hand. His arms bore line after line of knife-markings. The same continued over his shoulder where they gave ground to lashes of a thick, heated whip, lathing the skin from his back.

Already his skin and hair were darkened with blood and grime and sweat. So the orcs continued under their master's direction, and so the transformation was begun.

-

He was running. He wasn't quite sure how, for every inch of his skin screamed in pain at the chill touch of the damp, polluted air. But he was running. Running as fast as he was able down a shadowed corridor, leaping down every staircase he could find, looking desperately for an exit or outlet of some kind. There were no windows, so he could not know for sure that he was not simply heading deeper into the cavernous place, but he held hope still, for he was free and unfettered for the first time in many, many months. He was running. And then he was stopped.

He had hit a barrier. A depth of blackness that even in this dark place was unimaginable. A wall of solid steel sheathed in darkness.

He looked up and found a face.

And eyes of the most terrifying flame.

And then the floor found him and he knew no more.

-

Every breath was a sob as his control broke. His legs were shattered beneath him and he hung once more from the chains. His punishment. He had been left a little lower this time so that, had his legs been unbroken, he might have stood to take the weight from his shoulders. As it was every tiny motion in his body made his feet brush along the floor, sending his body into huge spasms of pain as the bones in his legs shifted against one another loosely. For a time he wondered if he would suffocate as great hands of pressure squeezed across his chest and pushed all air from his lungs. Then he would become still again and the pain would soften just a little, just enough for him to take one breath, and then one more. And then he would be back to holding himself as still as he could to avoid a repeat of the process. But always there would be a tiny motion, a twitch of a muscle as another pain made itself known, a yawn or hiccup. Just enough to shift him across the floor just a little. And then he would be in agony again.

He knew what was to come, for he had been told in great detail. Soon they would lay him out and brace his shattered legs. But not from any sense of care would they do this, for they would not take the time to set the bone first. Left shattered as they were, the bones would knit poorly, weakly, and though he might be able once again to walk if needed, he would never again do so without pain. This was not a new technique for those orc-makers who had lived through ages, for an orc would be needed to travel, sometimes great distances on foot. A lame orc would be useless, but a foot-loose elf was a risk.

Hanging there, trying not to move as he contemplated his fate, the elf could never know that there was much worse still to come. Though he had lost control in whimpers and cries of pain, still there was much strength in him, and he was not ready to break. His torture had driven him to the edges of his physical tolerance, but there was still much in him waiting to fall.

All in time. All in good time.

-

The master-orc stood before the once-elf who knelt at his feet, no longer the bright strong being he had been. He was orc-kind now, and lost to those who had once been his kin.

"Who are you, least of the worms at my feet."

"I am a servant of the servant of Sauron. Through him I serve the Dark Lord, and aid him in his vision." The master said nothing, but triumph was in his eyes as he looked up at his Master, wreathed in his glory of flame. The darkness in him outdid all other. Through him the world would fade to ashes. Soon he would have his victory, and this new-made orc would be the one to seal it for him.

-

They were being readied, readied for a final battle. The blood-lust was strong as he grasped at his pike with malformed hands. His shoulders hunched under the weight as the mail was draped across his back and a helmet shoved over his face. These others were crude, he knew. He would show his master skill. They had forgotten what they used to be, but he still remembered. Still remembered the skills, the movements of war. The master approached and he stood as tall as he could on ill-made legs.

"I have a task for you."

-

The orc looked out at the men, hands tightening about his weapon. He hated them, for their beauty, their courage, their spirit. He despised their cleanness, their strength, their wholeness. The brutalised bones in his legs screamed their pain to the rest of his body as he forced them to take his weight and that of his armour a while longer. Just one charge. The men were so few, it was hopeless for them. Just one charge, his target... the King.

He had been given this task though he didn't know why. A pawn to kill the King in some game he half-remembered.

The King.

He could see him now, stood before his men, soothing the fear in their hearts that the orc could taste even from this distance. He was giving a great speech, so typical of men. The orcs needed no speech to rouse them. The might of the Dark One filled their hearts and left no room for doubt or fear. He bound himself to their souls, to the very ground beneath their feet. This land was his own and, before long, he would have the power to take it, own it, possess it. And his servants would feast in their rewards.

-

The lines had broken as the men drove outwards and the orcs inwards. There were so few of the men that it seemed hopeless for them. There was no saviour for them here, and the King had troubles of his own. Right and left and right and left that sword flew, singing its battle cry to mingle with those of the men around it. The orc drove towards the King, knowing his target and allowing nothing else to distract him. He deflected all blows as they came at him, but engaged no one. He knew his target. He knew him.

He drove forwards into the fray, letting out a wordless cry of his own as a huge cave troll tried to take his target from him. The King was on the ground, but two more soldiers pulled the troll from him and dispatched it with graceful ease, they were mirrored warriors, identical in appearance, even their actions seeming somehow mirrored.

Mirrored... The mind of the orc wandered for a moment, and he was pulled back to his target, advancing on him. A sword swung into view and he deflected it, driving onwards and past his assailant. But this one was persistent, the sword swung again, from behind this time, and he whirled uncomfortably on damaged legs to confront it. Snarling as he swept the sword aside he found himself looking into one half of the mirror pair. The snarl turned into a grin as he saw clearly the sword-man that faced him now. Elf-kind. The hatred flared in him. How he hated elf-kind. He drew back his pike, ready for the blow. The Elf-kind's word made him hesitate for only a second.

"Legolas?" He swung.

-

-

(tbc: originally it was to be left there. But I couldn't be that evil and the plotbunny bit me in a painful place so I had to sit down and write some more. Ok, lots more. But hey... there should be some storyline soon, wouldn't that be a stunner!)


	2. Loss

AN: This may seem a little backwards. But you would have read the first part differently if you had read this first (if you see what I mean). Trust me. I've muddled Film and Book a little, just because I like some things from one better and some things from the other. And we will get to that L/E/E eventually.

-

-

Legolas heard Gimli take a tumble for a second time behind him and hesitated, calling Aragorn to a halt as well. The dwarf harrumphed himself back to his feet and glared at the other two as if daring them to accuse him of weakness.

"Aragorn, we cannot keep running forever," Legolas said, ignoring the dwarf's glare, "else we shall come across the orcs tired and weak."

"If we continue now, we shall catch them before night falls; before they enter Fangorn forest. If we rest they may be well into the forest and hidden from us by the morrow." Conceding the point, and knowing that they would have to catch up quickly if they wished to save the two hobbits that the orcs had taken from them, the three moved on again.

So it is that, with one decision, a splitting in the passage of time occurred and all that passes hereafter is only one of many paths through the webs that time weaves.

-  
They came across the orc troupe - as Aragorn had predicted - before dusk began to break over the horizon on the borders of Fangorn. Watching them from the top of a rise, the three saw Merry and Pippin thrown to the ground and took the chance offered to them as the orcs were distracted. The outer ranks fell to Legolas' bow as Aragorn and Gimli charged into the melee with sword and axe at the ready. There were thirty of the dark beings against one each of the three first races of Middle Earth. The odds were not in the heros' favour. Still they fought valiantly.

Finding the hobbits amidst the chaos, Aragorn stood over them as they worked to free their bindings and defended them from the wrath of the orcs and uruk-hai. Approached from behind and busy with other foes, Gimli was knocked to the floor with a cry, even as his attacker was felled by the elf's knife. With no time to check on the dwarf, Legolas fought on even more strongly, fearing for his friend and wanting the fighting over as quickly as possible so that he could determine how he fared.

Three uruks surrounded the man as he stood over the hobbits, forcing him to move away from the two small forms so that he could manoeuvre without risking stepping on them. Seeing that the orcs were trying to separate him from them and once again divide the fellowship, Aragorn called out to them.

"Merry, Pippin! Into the trees! Take shelter! We will find you again." Hearing his command, the hobbits ran as only hobbits can, with speed that might seem uncanny to a human eye. They were soon lost in the darkness of the trees, and so nobody saw as one orc sneaked after them in silence, hoping to have those two tasty treats all to him self.

-

The outcasts of Rohan arrived only moments later, alerted to the fighting by the noises carried across the plains and racing to their aid. With their arrival the remaining orcs scattered, knowing they had no chance fighting against so many. Without the element of surprise the horsemen were only able to take down a few more before they were all out of range of their spears and they turned to find out what army had managed to kill so many orcs in their lands.

Aragorn was knelt at Gimli's side even as aid arrived, knowing that they would be kept safe for a time. He was relieved to find the dwarf already struggling to rise - a dwarvish curse on his lips and a line of blood trickling down his forehead.

"Aragorn?" He called out as the man approached.

"I am here Gimli." He answered, moving to tend his headwound.

"Elf?" There was an expectant pause, followed by a worried one. No one had expected Legolas not to answer. Aragorn turned and stood to look about the battle field. Save for the horsemen, clustered at one end of the field, no one else stood.

"Legolas answer." Aragorn demanded.

"Come on, elf, this is no time for tricks." Gimli growled, getting to his feet with his axe at the ready. Moving across the field, Aragorn searched amongst the orc bodies for his friend, hoping desperately to find him trapped beneath another foe. There was no sign of him.

"He has been taken." Gimli confirmed, tone grim.

"Perhaps he has been drawn into the forest after the hobbits. We must seek him there." Aragorn insisted, though his face showed what little hope he had.

"Let us hope to find the hobbits safe, and pray we come across our elf, simply wandered into the trees." Gimli spoke, looking into the woodland with a shadowed heart.

-

So it came about that only the man and the dwarf stood before the white wizard in the woods of Fangorn and, though gladdened to know that the hobbits were safe, Gandalf had only confirmed their fears regarding Legolas' fate.

"You cannot go after him, you know that, do you not?" Gandalf's expression was sad.

"I had suspected as much." Aragorn had said, feeling his heart grow heavy. "No doubt Barad-dûr has him now and we have not the force to rescue him from there. I fear no one does."

"I'm sorry, my friends, but I'm afraid Legolas is lost to us. But we have much to do." He continued in his brusque way. "We must ride for Edoras. That is where our path now lies."

-

Gimli was confused. Though Aragorn had taken the elf's loss with difficulty, it had not seemed to affect him so badly before as it did now, with his friends the Rangers of the North that had joined the armed forces of the Rohirrim at Helm's Deep. Now that they were safe within the fortress walls he seemed agitated, pacing up and down the halls and not settling anywhere. Only moments before he had called his two elven friends to his side and taken them into a room just off the main hall where all of the troops sat eating the midday meal, declaring that they were not to be disturbed.

"Well, that is strange." Gimli told the ranger beside him conversationally as they sat eating the meagre fare they had been given as they prepared for battle. "You say that the elven twins are friends with Aragorn?"

"Yes, they are like brothers to him." The ranger replied. "He was fostered in their house."

"Why then, has he just come out of conference with them sporting a bruise and a cracked lip?"

"You must be mistaken." The ranger frowned; a personal friend of all three, he had never seen them fight.

"Look for yourself." As the ranger sought the future king in the crowds of the mess hall, the dwarf looked for the twins. He spotted them coming out of the room the three had just held their discussion in, not far from where he was sitting. As soon as he got a good look at the elven twins Gimli wondered at their loss, for their faces showed signs of great grief. Red tear-tracks ran down both faces as they supported each other across the hall towards the private rooms. Both mouths were set in grim lines, thoughts turned inwards and contemplative. The crowds rushed to get out of their way, seeing the murder simmering in those eyes. Whom ever had wronged them was in severe danger, and Gimli found himself hoping it wasn't Aragorn; for they would all need the Ranger before the battle was done, and Helm's Deep was no place to lose him to his brothers' wrath before any real fighting had begun.

-

The Battle of Pelennor Fields, as it would later be known in song, was won. The grave-less knights that had fought along side the future king had been released from their blood-oaths to go to peace. Taking heart in a moment's peace of his own, Aragorn: Heir of Isildur stopped to consider the cost. The strength of a Kingdom not yet his own to rule lay scattered on the ground at his feet, friends lying dead amongst foes. Minas Tirith was near in ruin, its gates in pieces in the courtyard, rubble scattering the roads and thoroughfares. And the fellowship, what of that? Boromir fallen, Legolas taken, Pippin searching the fields of the dead hopelessly for Merry. Frodo and Sam - whom his heart would have him believe still fought onwards to Mount Doom - far from anyone's aid. Gimli still counting his kills - to tell that damn stupid elf what he missed when he returns - without that vital spark in his motions. Gandalf with weary, weary eyes. Maybe this long time on Middle Earth had grown too much even for him.

Glancing behind him he found the twins sat back to back - a strangely surreal mirror image - as they too gathered strength for what lay ahead. In the first days after telling Legolas' lovers what had become of him he had feared that they would both fade away in grief, but as the battle of Helm's Deep had begun they had reappeared as a deadly combined force, destroying everything that had come between them and victory. Even Aragorn had never seen them fight so ruthlessly; though he remembered tales he had listened to in disbelief, of the years after Lord Elrond's wife's attack and subsequent passing when his brothers had been nothing but an orc-killing machine. Without need for food, water or rest they had torn the countryside apart in vengeance.

Still Aragorn had been glad of their restraint, for he had half-expected them to make their own way to Mordor and challenge the host there for the immediate return of Legolas. From that battle he knew they could not return. Now they were headed to the very Gates of Mordor, and Aragorn could only hope that they would not try to make this battle their own.

-

Elrohir scanned the faces lined up in front of him. The orcs made up the first ranks, herded before their successors, the Uruk-Hai. The orcs were nothing but debris to get in the way of the swords aimed at the more hardy warriors. To slow and tire the humans before the Uruk-Hai came in for the kill. He was bitterly aware of the origins of the orcs, the bastardisation of elven kind carried out by Melkor many millenia before his birth. He wondered absently what Legolas was undergoing, if he still lived, deep within the walls of the black tower. He shared a glance with his brother, and fought with the tears that threatened in his eyes. This was not the time. He knew there was no way that they would be able to rescue the elf from the dark forces; for once the ring was destroyed and Sauron along with it they had no way of knowing what would happen to all those who resided within the dark gates. He fought to convince himself that Legolas was dead and there was nothing now that he could do for him but destroy as many of these foul abominations as he could to gain vengeance.

There was a pause as the two armies studied each other, both aware of where the better odds lay. Feeling the doubts of his men, Aragorn turned to give a speech of hope and victory. The twins exchanged a smile, their little brother had grown to a great man in only a handful of years, and they cheered as loudly as all of the men as he finished. He would need their strength in this battle, for all here knew that many would die today and the number depended on two half-sized heroes walking across a hopeless plane towards a deadly mountain, surrounded by foes.

"Stay with Aragorn." Elladan muttered to him as the future King returned to his post and dismounted, allowing his horse a chance to escape.

"Watch Mithrandir." Elrohir replied with a smile.

"Good Luck, and Elbereth be with you, though no light may shine through this night-fallen place."

"And you, my brother. We shall see him again in the end." Elladan did not have to ask whom it was that he meant. Then the charge began, and there was no more time for words.

-

Elladan saw the troll approaching his brother and Aragorn and, making sure that Mithrandir could hold his own for a little longer, he raced across the field towards them, sweeping everyone else out of his way. The troll had Aragorn on the floor, a great foot hovering over his chest as the twins grabbed an arm each and bore it to the floor with their swords in its chest. The twins scattered again, Elladan returning to the wizard's side and Elrohir rounding on those orcs who had got a little close with the distraction. One orc deflected his blow with the long metal swords that their race favoured and moved onwards, obviously targeting Aragorn as he fought with the huge number of orcs that were still swamping the men. Swinging again, Elrohir's sword was swept aside and he found himself face to face with...

"Legolas?" The orc's weapon swung down on him and, with limp sword hand, Elrohir waited for the blow. He could not move to strike his love, for his heart recognised him though his appearance was changed terribly. He closed his eyes and waited for the end.


	3. Contemplation

AN: Just a little chapter. Hope you don't mind too much.

Someone, after reading this story commented that I tend to jump around a lot. I'm not going to apologise for this, it's my writing style. If a character is upset or under stress, their thoughts do not follow a straightforward linear path. -shrugs- sorry to any one who doesn't like it, but it aint gonna change.

-

-

-

The elven peoples of middle earth above all treasure the beauty of the world around them and the skills wielded by its many peoples. They prefer to appear aloof as it offers them some defence against the harsher aspects of existence, but they love and desire and mourn as any other. When amongst their own, great celebrations of another day passing are not unusual, but any human, dwarf or other being of middle earth to come across such an event would find it gone before they had seen more than a glimpse of the goings-on. Rivendell, the Last Homely House, was hidden deep within middle earth and was a place of peace and quiet contemplation.

This is why, when one morn Elrond - Lord of Rivendell - came across his two twin sons brawling like drunken men, he was taken aback for a moment.

"**ELROHIR, ELLADAN**!" At the roar of their names Elrohir and Elladan dragged themselves apart with shocked expressions on their faces, panting heavily at the exertion of wrestling against their perfectly matched opposite. Elrond watched them for a moment - an experience more daunting for the twins than the shout that had come before - and then began his tirade.

"We are elves." He started quietly, a technique that any parent will tell you is terribly effective in gaining young ones' attention. "We practice poise and are demure, elegant. We are quiet and studious." He was beginning to go red in the face as his voice rose to crescendo. "We DO NOT **BRAWL**." His voice dropped again. "You will tell me what this was about, and if you cannot provide a sufficient answer, you will be banned from the stables, the armoury and the practice arena. If you lie to me, I will lock you in your rooms and believe that I will do this, no matter how old you are now, for I would treasure the peace and quiet." The twins exchanged shocked glances, these were serious threats.

"Elladan has stolen Legolas from me out of spite." Elrohir spat at his brother.

"He lies, father. He has stolen Legolas from ME out of jealousy!" Elladan returned, looking about ready to start the fight again. Elrond chuckled to himself. A most unexpected reaction, considering the circumstances. Both twins stopped glaring at each other and turned their shocked gazes to their father.

"Ada? You think this is _funny_!?"

"You have discovered this deception, and yet neither of you have thought to confront _Legolas_ with this?"

"We have been... occupied."

"Aye, with muddying the reputation of elves no doubt. Come, sit with me, let me explain this situation to you before you do each other harm."

"_Explain_... so you _knew_ this was going on?"

"I have to confess to being a conspirator in it all. We are an interfering culture, elves; it is something I missed from my earlier list." Elrond took a seat on the stone bench in the courtyard where he had found the twins. The twins settled at his knees, so that they could look up at him as he talked. "When Legolas first come to Rivendell - given the task by his father of perfecting his Sindarin - he was curious of many things. His Sindarin at the time was coarse and so heavily accented I thought I would never succeed in understanding him, let alone helping him speak it properly. He came to me with a question many times, trying to phrase it delicately in a tongue of which his grasp was feeble to say the least. In fact I seem to remember that he gave up in the end and put the question to Glorfindel who - and he never fails to astound me - knows the Silvan language faultlessly.

"The question, father, please? You take hours to tell something that might only take a moment to say."

"He asked if the two of you were involved."

"He asked if _both_ of us were betrothed, even back then? Brother, I fear I have done you an injustice."

"No, you misunderstand. He wished to know if you were involved _with each other_. When Glorfindel said no, I am told he said that this was a shame and that he would make an attempt to rectify it." There was a stunned pause from the twins as they looked at each other.

"So he would have both of us would he?! Damned arrogant princeling isn't satisfied with one of the sons of Elrond, he must have _both_ as his prize."

"It wasn't like that." The Silvan accent may have been softened over time under Elrond's expert tutelage, but there was no mistaking that voice. They turned to find the blond leaning up against a tree behind them.

"What was it like then, _ernil_?" Legolas flinched at the sneering tone.

"At first I had planned to put it to you like adults. But it soon became obvious that neither of you could be talked to, so I planned to bring you together and then step back so that you would see what was under your noses. Although now it seems I have not been quick enough and my plan has backfired."

"Maybe not." Elrond put in. "For now they both have a grudge against you, but are united. We just need to find an excuse to lock them in a room together." The twins gaped at their father, plotting their future as if they weren't sat before him.

"Ada!" They chorused.

"Besides, _I_ could never hate Legolas." Elladan put in, glaring at his brother.

"And what makes you think we even _want_ to be together?" Elrohir followed.

-

Sat in the small courtyard that adjoined to his private rooms, Lord Elrond contemplated the confused relationship of his sons and their paramour; a piece of parchment hanging loosely from his fingertips. It had not taken Legolas long to convince the brothers of the depth of their love for each other, and of the potential of their love. But somehow, despite the realisation that the love between the brothers was more than either of them could have thought, it was also more than that. Accidentally, the Mirkwood elf had wound himself into their love too tightly for him to be able to simply move away as he had intended. For he too had fallen in love, and the twins would not be parted from him. Though his position necessitated prolonged visits home for the more important ceremonies and events of his culture, he spent as much time as he could in Rivendell.

At first the Rivendell Lord had objected to this arrangement, thinking it unwise for such a binding of souls. He had found it impossible to separate them, though. Legolas' visits became more frequent under the guise of alliance negotiations, and too often he found himself sending his sons on the return journeys, simply because they were so mournful when separated from their third. He knew that all three would be forced to go to war and risk their lives in the not so distant future, though his foresight allowed him no indication of how they would fare. He had only prayed that all three would be able to walk out of the other side, else the lives of the other two would quickly fall into shadow.

And now, with this letter in his hands... he looked back down at the parchment, that had arrived only hours before. The note was written in Elladan's hand, though not as neat as he might have expected of his son, as though his hand were shaking as he wrote. The page bore few words, but the meaning was easy to see.

It read 'Legolas has fallen. We go to war, wish us luck.' They were not coming back, this he knew in his heart. They were going to their deaths, to join their love in Mandos' halls. Silently, he wept for his children, and his brother-children, whose lives had been so darkened by Sauron and the coming of the one ring.

-

-

-

-

-

Split Persona : Thanks Sooooooooo much for being my first reviewer(s). Had to wonder if I'd done something wrong when no one reviewed the first chapter... :s It's all good though. Hope this chapter isn't too short for you!

-

Laebeth : I can't promise ANYTHING! (without giving away the storyline) Only there isn't going to be much arrygorn until later. Sowee.


	4. Home

It had been two weeks since the fall of Sauron and Barad-dûr and yet still no news had been heard in Rivendell. Elrond had felt the One Ring pass from existence across the distance, as the evil fled the country in a black wave. Vilya was now a weight on his finger as it had never been before, and his heart was weighted through desire for news of his sons. Though Arwen had been spared the fate that had hung over her throughout the trials of the ring, there had been no further word of her love or his companions. It would take a messenger twelve days at full speed to reach him from Minas Tirith, perhaps a fortnight from Mordor, he knew it was too early to expect news in truth. But still he awaited it impatiently, finding himself waiting in the outer yard for riders, or riding the eastern borders himself. He needed to know, even if that knowledge was only that the twins had died in battle and gone to join their lover.

-

What he certainly hadn't expected was for two lone horses to appear on the border on the fifteenth day since Sauron's fall, one rider each and a third thrown across the saddle of like some kind of hunting trophy.

When two grim-faced sons had pulled the bound and gagged orc to the ground, Elrond wondered if they had finally broken in grief, driven to taking prisoners. He moved cautiously to greet them in the courtyard as their horses were taken from them.

"My sons. It is good to see you." He greeted warmly, ignoring the third for a moment.

"Father." Elrohir smiled and embraced his father warmly. Elladan followed suit and then they both stood back and, glancing once at each other they looked down on the orc. The creature knelt between them on the floor, wrists bound behind its back and ankles tied. It glared at the ground, not even bothering to look up at the elf stood before it. Elrohir stepped forwards first.

"Father, we must ask your aid in a matter most desperate and confusing."

"Would it have something to do with the dark soul you have brought into this place of peace?"

"You do not recognise the one that accompanies us?" Elladan asked.

"It is an orc, there is nothing there for me to recognise. All orcs I have met with have found their years shortened."

"You have not met this orc before, Father, look again."

"Then why do you ask me if I recognise him?" Elrond asked, beginning to get irked by his sons' questioning.

"Look into his eyes, Father. Please." Consenting to Elrohir's plea, Elrond knelt before the creature on the ground, flinching at the vile feel of sandpaper-rough skin beneath his fingers as he pulled its chin up to meet his eyes. The orc snarled up at him through the gag. Its eyes were blue. Very blue.

Elrond pulled away and turned on his heel so that he was no longer witness to the terrifying reality that now faced him.

"We are not wrong then?" Elrohir asked softly.

"Why?" Elrond hissed, turning again. "Why have you brought this... thing here, when it should have died upon the battle field, and been released from its pitiful existence."

"I found him upon the battle field." Elrohir began the story. "He had been sent to target Aragorn and I intercepted him, but as soon as I saw... I could not strike him down; though my soul willed me to end his suffering my heart could not."

"I was forced to deflect his blow, for he would have struck Elrohir down. We brought him here with great struggle, in dire hope that he is not too far gone for help. He has only been un-made for weeks at the most, for he was only missing a month." Elladan finished.

"Give us hope, please father?"

"And if I tell you that there is no hope? Will either of you have the strength to do what should have been done in the first place?" The twins exchanged a despairing look. Elrond forced himself to look back down at the orc, knelt on the floor between them, and shuddered with revulsion. "This is no healer's task. Mithrandir must be called, and the Lady Galadriel. If it is determined there is no hope, it must be you who end this. Do you understand?"

"We must try." Elladan replied, filled with new hope.

"This I know. I will treat his visible wounds; for the others, you two must take responsibility."

"And we will."

"May the Valar smile upon this most desperate task; for never before has such a thing been attempted."

-

The orc lay upon a bed in the room that had been allocated to it (for it would have been folly to keep it in the healing wing with those who had been hurt by such creatures). They had been forced to drug the food that they had given it in order to allow a closer look at its injuries, for the twins had noted many curiosities in its behaviour while they transported it across the long distance from Mordor to Rivendell. Looking over the sedated orc, Elrond found that many of the grievous wounds that he bore had been made long before he had set foot on the battlefield. These were obviously the unhealed signs of his torture at Sauron's hands. As he made a first examination, he explained his reason for hope to the twins.

"Sauron, though greatly strong, has never reached the strength of his Master, for he was only ever Maia, and Morgoth was of the Ainur. Through this I have hope that his attempt to recreate his Master's achievement has been less thorough. A month is too short a time to destroy a soul truly, or so I would think."

"He is strong, they would have had to fight long with him to make him surrender his soul to them."

"Yes. Yes, let us keep our hope for now. But for now I would have you leave, while I treat his wounds."

"We would rather stay."

"We fear leaving him."

Came the dual reply.

"Do you fear I would take him from you even now?"

"No!" Came Elrohir's offended reply.

"Maybe." Elladan answered more truthfully.

"Stay then, but I would have you stay at the side of the room. This is no show for your eyes." The twins said nothing, only moved to the side to give their father room.

Starting at the orc's feet, the Rivendell Lord divested it of heavy leather boots and leather leggings, throwing the disgusting articles - caked in dirt and blood - into a basket in the corner for disposal. The twins had told him that they suspected it had been wounded in the fighting, for it walked with an uncomfortable gait. Revealing the abused limbs beneath the stained leather, Elrond was amazed the creature had been able to walk at all. There was no open wound that he could treat directly, but by the twisted, distorted bone it looked as if he would have to reset both legs if he were to have any hope of righting the damage done. Filing away that for future action, the elf moved on with his examination.

He was forced to cut the heavy leather tunic from the thin form, the material was so stiff with grime. The undershirt and armoured mittens followed after, and the orc was displayed for all to see, bearing the harsh marks of his master. The first sight that caught Elrond's attention was the mutilated hands, previously hidden beneath the bulky gloves. His breath caught in his throat and he fought the impulse to turn away at the sight of such a personal attack. If there had ever been any doubt in his mind before, there was none now. His sons needed him to be strong, he reminded himself. He would be strong. He took a moment to look over the wounds, already knowing that there would be nothing he could do. Elves could heal much hurt, but they could not re-grow appendages. Moving up the body before him he ignored all of the scars across the chest and shoulders. None of the wounds were open and there was nothing he could do about the scarring. There was a gasp and a sob from behind him and Elrond realised that he had been blocking the twin's view of its hands until that moment. Turning, he found Elrohir with his head buried in Elladan's shoulder, sobbing softly as Elladan watched his father with a pale face.

"You should be spared this, please. You need only go into the hall." Elrond pleaded.

"No." Elrohir responded, turning back to face him, face reddened with tears. "We must be here." Elladan kept a tight hold on his brother.

"We stay." Nodding despite his disapproval, Elrond continued.

-

"There are two things that concern me." Elrond told them as he herded them out of the room, locking it behind him. "I fear his eyes have been poisoned, for there is a distortion there. This I can treat, but it must be done quickly, for the effects become permanent after a short time."

"The effects?"

"Light will pain him, sunlight more than any other. This poison may be the reason the orcs do not emerge during the day, if this has been used on all of his kin. I have seen it used in attacks as a method to blind the enemy; the treatment is a simple one, but lengthy. The eyes must be bound against all light for a month or more and they must be bathed regularly to cleanse out the poison."

"And the other?"

"His legs." All three winced, for the state of his legs had been obvious. "I can only imagine it was done as punishment for an attempted escape, for it is most unlike the other injuries. But we can be sure that this one happened before he was... turned, for he has healed the bone much quicker than one of that kind should have been able to. I can reset the bone, but again, it will take much time. He seems to no longer have any healing abilities beyond that a man... or an orc might have."

"Time is no problem, for it gives us longer to reach Mithrandir, and begin his other healing. Do what you can father, the rest must be up to us."

-

-

-

-

-

-

Iridia : I'm writing... I'm writing! :p Put away those pillows. Don't worry too much about the slashy stuff, it won't be R rated in any way. (sorry to anyone who was hoping for smut)

-

Split Persona : I was wondering just how long I could keep you hanging on... but I decided to be nice to you. Thankies again.


	5. SoulHealing Part 1

AN: Fresher's Flu attacks. Hence crappy everything in the last chapter and this one (grammar, punctuation, wording... Its no good, and i'm sorry) I can't write properly when i feel like shit. I'll prally come back and edit it all when i feel better :p Meanwhile, back to the Lemsip...

-

-

-

-

"Mithrandir, our greetings. We have want to speak with you."

"So your message said, young sons of Elrond. Am I permitted to pass through your gates before we discuss this matter though?" Looking a little abashed at their forward behaviour, the twins led the wizard through the gates and into the Hall of Fire, deserted at this time of day.

"Now then, what can I do for..." The Istar paused, finally looking properly at the elves sat in front of him. "You look like you have had no sleep for all the weeks we have been parted. And what is this?" Catching at a lock of Elladan's hair, he pulled it aside to reveal a colourful bruise. "Have you been fighting again?"

"Calm, Mithrandir. This will take some time to explain." Elladan brushed the hand away.

"Explain then," the Maia demanded with raised eyebrow. "for I see signs of some unknown battle on your brother also, and would have an explanation."

"Legolas is not dead." Elrohir stated, watching his expression carefully. The wizard looked to Elladan, who simply nodded once. Then he started laughing, a chortle that seemed to echo throughout the hall, filled with glee. When he had calmed, the twins continued.

"He is quite ill, for a great darkness has come over him and we cannot reach him through it."

"Sauron's fall has not been enough to release him from the shadow." Elladan clarified.

"He attacks all that approach him, we are forced to tamper with his food to tend him."

"Father has been treating his hurts, but he does not stay still long enough for his treatments to do much good."

"And you wish my aid...?" Mithrandir attempted to get a word in edgeways. It went unnoticed.

"We had hoped for further progress before you saw him."

"We fear for him."

"We have done all we can think of."

"But now father says we must..." There was a choked silence, Elrohir unable to finish his sentence.

"Now, now." Gandalf soothed the distraught twins as they poured out their worries. "I am here now, and I will do what I can. But I can do nothing without first seeing him for myself."

-

Few people, save those who had known him for many years, would see the distress concealed within the image of an elderly gentleman sat upon the stone bench in the courtyard, smoking his pipe. Elrond had known the wizard for nearly two millenia. That was more than enough to see the anguish in his face.

"You have seen him then." He spoke softly, so as to avoid disturbing the peace of dusk that was settling around them.

"I have."

"I have done what I can. I fear for my sons, should he be irretrievable."

"Do not give up your hope yet. I shall take the shadow from his mind tonight, and we shall see what happens next."

"You are able..."

"Ah, yes. And I would use this power I have been gifted before I am forced to return to those who bestowed it upon me."

"Do you think it will be enough?"

"What use is such power if it is not enough?" The old wizard sighed. "We shall see, my old friend. If it is not, then I shall join you in worrying for your sons."

"Will you permit me to sit with you while you do this?"

"Indeed I would insist, and the twins also, for I shall need your will for his return. My own will not be enough. Together we will draw the darkness from him."

-

Elladan clung to the chilled hand nearest to him, as Elrohir mirrored him on the other side. Both heads were bowed in despair. The wizard was led in through the outer door, as though just woken - as indeed he had been - for he had slept long after his treatment of the orc's soul. Looking up at the wizard from the foot of the bed, Elrond could think of only one thing to ask.

"What went wrong?"

"Nothing. I had expected to find him awake and hale when I woke." The wizard was adamant.

"He is neither." Elrond stated.

"Something must have... I have miscalculated... and..." He frowned again. "Move, children of Elrond." He shoed them away, placing one hand on the still form's chest – stirred only by the gentle rise and fall of breath - and closing his eyes. "Ah." He murmured. "So that is your malady." He opened his eyes again, looking up at the three who watched him. "I have made a grievous error, but there is a simple solution."

"What was the error, to result in such... unresponsiveness?" Elrohir asked. Gandalf took a seat, settling as though there was much more of him than what was seen. Taking his pipe from one of the many pockets of his voluminous robe, but not lighting it at Elrond's glare, he paused before replying.

"To turn elven light into darkness, evil forces must first drain the strength of the elf and take all that they are from them. Then the elf is forced to draw on the shadow that is offered them, as one grasps at any stray piece of driftwood when drowning. I have taken the shadow from Legolas, but he has nothing to fill the space that this has left. I will siphon a little of my light into the void to fill it. Then we must hope that there is enough of Legolas left to take hold of the offering and make it his own."

-

The Istar left the elf's room several hours later, pale-faced and drawn, and had wished the family luck before retiring to his room with a request not to be disturbed for at least a month. No one was quite sure whether he was joking or not.

-

When the elf had awoken – for elf he was now, and orc no longer - the change in him was visible immediately. No longer was he the crude, harsh creature that he had been, nor was he unresponsive. Instead he cursed the twins as often as possible and shrunk away in fear from every other person that approached him. That his eyes had to be bound did not help matters, for his demand to remove the blindfold and prove their identities had to be met with refusal, and it did not inspire confidence in the returned elf. It seemed he thought himself no better off than he had been in Barad-dûr, and that was a thought that saddened the Rivendell Lord.

-

Sitting once again in his little courtyard, Elrond did not hear Glorfindel's approach until his Seneschal was beside him, a hand on his shoulder.

"I have looked in on him again, and he has woken. If you are to see him, it should be soon."

"Elladan?"

"He has gone to seek some peace and quiet in the gardens. This is hurting him more than he would like to admit."

"He has always tried to be strong."

"This is testing his resolve. I will talk to him if you would like?"

"He will need as much support as he can be given, if you would...?"

"I will go now."

"My thanks, mellon-nin."

"Go tend to the spirits of the other two, we will look after the third." Elrond could only nod and, standing, move back into the house. It was only a few strides down the hallway to the room where Elrohir lay. His face was pale on the sheets and he did not stir as his father entered the room and took a seat at his side.

"I go to him tonight, my son, to see if he will answer to me. Have hope, for still there is something of Legolas in him, of that Mithrandir has assured us. The power he has given up to bring him back has not been used in vain." There was no answer from his son, and in truth he had not expected one, for Elrohir had offered no reaction to anything that had happened for near three days now, hiding away within himself at Legolas' continued refusal to accept him for who he was.

The Lord sighed and, laying a kiss on his son's forehead he moved for the door. He had promised Elladan that he would take a little time with Legolas today, for he had not had a chance to sit and talk with him and was hopeful that he would be able to reach him.

For his sons, he had to have hope.

-

-

-

-

-

LadyJanelly : Thanks for the reviews! I'm no good at graphic, without losing the storyline. Graphic is good for one-shots, I find. shrugs

Still hoping i haven't lost half my audience by admitting there's gonna be no smut :( Oh well...


	6. SoulHealing Part 2

Elrond opened the door gently, knowing it would make little noise on well-kept hinges. Stepping into the room his heart sank a little as he realised that the elf had heard him, and was cringing back in the bed as though awaiting a blow. A thin bandage was wrapped around his face, holding light-resistant pads against his eyes, and frames had been set up around his splinted legs to keep the weight of the blankets from resting on them. Glancing at his hands he found that he had hidden them beneath the blankets, out of sight. He would have to check over them later, for they had been red and inflamed last time he had looked, and he feared infection while the elf's immune system was weakened. Elves so rarely got infections, for the wounds simply healed too fast for infection to get in, but Elrond doubted the unmade elf had been in the cleanest of places while he had been injured, and his ability to heal himself had taken a solid blow.

Finally - visual examination over - he approached the bed and took a seat in the chair that had been inhabited by Elladan for the last few weeks, trying to ignore the elf's attempts to his himself from sight.

"Was I such a tyrant, Legolas, that you might hide from me now?" The sound of his voice seemed to bring the elf back to himself, and he now lay still in the bed, his posture taught.

"My Lord Elrond, I must admit it has been some time since I have heard your voice in this mockery. Though your sons are a frequent feature, so perhaps it is not so strange a thing." The spite in the familiar voice was painfully unfamiliar. Taking a deep breath, Elrond sought for a way to reach the confused soul he had once known.

"I had heard that you deny my sons the pleasure of talking with you. Now you tell me you talk to them often. Which is it, Legolas?"

"Your sons? You mock me. They are orcs with spelled voices, as you are, as everyone is. More trickery in an attempt to break me. You can fool me no more. Can you not yet see that you will never succeed?" Elrond's breath caught, as Legolas' actions became clear. He had persuaded everyone that they should lower their voices around him, or better yet not speak at all. But Sauron had been using the twins to twist the woodelf's thoughts, as part of his torture, and any familiar voice might have been aid to the twin's convincing him of their identity. And yet there was no hope in his strong words of denial, they seemed almost desperate. Legolas felt he neared the edge of breaking, though Sauron's games had long since finished.

"Oh, Legolas. I am so sorry we were not able to get you out sooner. But you must believe me, I truly am Elrond."

"Then you will remove this blindfold, for you have no need of it to hide your true appearance from me." His tone was challenging, but the tension in the words was palpable. Legolas truly feared the blindfold.

"I cannot do that Legolas, I know that Elladan has already told you why. Your eyes will only heal with the treatments I have given you and by being hidden from the touch of sunlight. You have only two more weeks to stand it, then I will take the bandages off, but until then if you wish to keep your sight, they must remain. How can I convince you of who I am, without showing you? Tell me, anything and I will do it."

"You cannot be Elrond for, if you were, I would be safe and free of the shadow, but the shadow on my heart is stronger than ever. So strong that I fear I might give in to it soon. Warm does it feel to my cold soul, when once it was cold and my own soul warm with anger. " He sighed, and turned his head from the Lord. "And I have said too much, for this will only gladden you to hear and increase your efforts."

"I can see how it might feel like that, for to have the space that held the shadow filled with the warmth of the soul of an old friend after so long fighting it must be hard to understand. But know this, and know I speak the truth. Do you remember the Ring-Bearer, Frodo, and the fellowship's original task?"

"Ai, yes. But we failed them upon Amon Hen and for you to know of such things speaks darkly of their fate."

"Nay, they were successful. The ring was destroyed, cast into the fires. It is no more, and its master along with it. But dark things had taken your mind when we found you, and the defeat of the shadow was not enough to release you. Gandalf had to..."

"Gandalf?" He snorted. "You cannot expect me to believe you _now_! Gandalf is dead, may his soul rest in peace."

"Gandalf the Grey passed through Moria and with all of his strength defeated a minion of Morgoth, the Balrog of Moria. He became Gandalf the White and was reformed in our world. He returned to the fellowship shortly after you were taken." Elrond sighed in exasperation. The words sounded unbelievable even to him. "Can you at least believe that things have happened in the world while you were not present? We did not just give up hope when you were lost to us."

"Of course, Gandalf resurrected, please continue." The sarcasm was biting.

"Gandalf forced the shadow from your mind, for it had taken you to a dark place, far beyond our reach. But you began to fade for it opened a hole within you, he was forced to lend you a little of his light to fill the hole - it will feel warm to you like the sunlight dispelling a night time shadow. But you continue to refuse its warmth and so you still fade, and we cannot save you if you will not take our help. You cast away my sons as though they disgust you, you make me watch them fade too. I will not lose so many who mean so much to me." Elrond, catching the desperation entering his tone, forced his emotions back a way. This was not what the other elf needed.

"Do you remember that time you caught us together in the halls of fire? We were all three curled up in one of the large chairs with a blanket. The twins could not hide me in time." Elrond's breath caught at this soft recollection of a memory. A memory from a time that seemed ages past, though it could not have been more than two centuries.

"They tried their very best I seem to remember." Elrond laid a hand on Legolas' shoulder, hoping and praying that he was getting somewhere with the young elf.

"Don't touch me." There was a coldness, a blankness in those words that belied all the warmth that had been there moments before. It made Elrond shudder and he pulled away. "They hid me beneath the blanket." He continued as if nothing had happened, the warmth of reminiscing back in his tone. "But you saw me without trouble." Biting his lip, Elrond continued; letting Legolas take the conversation where he would.

"And I had no problems guessing who the twins would be hiding. You were so good for them, though you all pushed my patience from time to time. They were always mournful when you were gone." These were truths he had never dared speak before any of them before, but he knew that if he were to convince him that he was no impostor they would need saying.

"And I shall never live to see them again, not feel their touch." There was a shudder of a sob swallowed back. "All I have left are their voices on harsh orc bodies who have no wish but to break me whatever way they can." The words came like a harsh slap.

"They... touched you." Elrond's heart was suddenly cold. He had envisaged this form of torture, but never with orcs masquerading as his sons.

"As your 'sons' would, yes. Does this excite you, Orc? Would you like a turn? I will do nothing to stop you, I bet your master would even be glad of the aid. After all you cannot talk me to death." Elrond turned away, disgusted. "No? Then leave me in peace!" Legolas hadn't meant to shout, but the emotions that Elrond's voice had stirred within him were rising quickly to surge past the weakened barriers he still held. There was a softness in that voice that spoke of a home, and caring arms when they were needed, and wise words and stern lectures. And it spoke of sons who had spent an age learning from their wise father, and who were more like him than they cared to admit.

Elrond sat in silence as the tears began to fall, waiting for a moment before moving closer and placing a soft hand upon Legolas' cheek, brushing away the drops that fell from beneath the dampening bandage.

"Do you feel my hand?" A nod. "I am no orc."

"I believe you." A whispered admission.

"I'm glad." Elrond gathered him closer into his arms, careful not to shift splinted legs that lay beneath the light covers. He held him quietly as he cried, a damaged hand stroking through hair that could only be elven, so smooth a texture. This was no orc. He believed, for the first time in many weeks. Reality came back too quickly as his situation made itself known, and the despair firmly entrenched in his heart reminded him of what he was now.

"But what do I do now? I am ruined. To fade might seem a better end."

"You heal! There is nothing more I would ask of you, but if you allow yourself to fade know that you would not leave this world alone."

"Elrohir... Elladan... But what if I cannot?"

"My sons will accept you as you are. They do not care for petty things, and would have you returned to them in any form."

"What have I done..." Exhausted and numbed, Legolas lost his grip on consciousness and Elrond lost his grip on his own tears, sobbing harshly to the quiet room as he rocked the still form in his arms.

-

The first time he work he was cold and shivering, warm hands lay a blanket over him and sleep took him again.

-

The second time he was too hot and he fought with leaden limbs to throw the blanket off again.

-

The third time pain welled up in him, burning through his body as though he were set aflame. He couldn't help but cry out, and a hand on his shoulder was all that kept him from rising up to try and rid himself of the pain. A cup was brought to his lips and, choking a little, he swallowed the bitter liquid.

"Better?" Came a voice belonging to the hands that held the cup. And with the draught the pain was soothed away back into the recesses that it had long haunted.

"Elladan?" He whispered in response. The uncertainty he felt brought a tremble to his voice. What if he had only dreamed Elrond, or if this was only a furthering of the dark lord's scheme against him. In trusting to Elrond's word he could be giving up his soul to the very one who wanted it. The sweet laughter that followed near wiped the uncertainty from his mind. The orcs had never laughed in that way. It had been an imperfection of the spell. They had laughed as orcs, never as an elf would. Never as Elladan just had.

"I am glad to hear you call me that, Legolas, instead of accusing me of being some foul trickery or something worse."

"How long, Elladan? How long have I been here. How long since you took me from that place?"

"Sauron was defeated on the 25th March, more than a month ago, and we found you on that day and brought you here. Gandalf took the shadow from you on the 24th April and you lay in sleep for two days more. You roused only four days ago and yesterday father came to you, on the 30th April. Tomorrow Aragorn will be crowned King of Men, and as soon as you are healed we shall have to set off for Minas Tirith to watch my sister get wed." There was laughter in Elladan's voice, but Legolas was stricken.

"I cannot go before the others as I am... How could I? They would not..." Legolas found tears forming and fought with himself not to wipe them away. He would rather have Elladan see him cry than display the ruins of his hands he would wipe them with.

"Come now, you have been though too much to come out unchanged. They would understand. They love you too much to do otherwise. Father has told us a little of what you said to him. We are so sorry for being your weakness, for being used against you. We only hope you can forgive us. But come, I must change the bandages on your hands, infection has crept in despite our efforts. This trial has left your elven healing weakened, we must help it as much as we can."

"Must you see them?"

"To clean them, aye. Else I would do a very messy job." Elladan went to laugh but was brought up short when he saw Legolas' face. "You are ashamed of the wounds?"

"They are not wounds, they are an abomination. I do not know how you can stand to look at me any more."

"Oh Legolas." Arms were suddenly thrown around his shoulders and he had to fight a rising panic to keep from pulling away. "How sadly have thing progressed. Believe me when I say this means nothing to me save you are a thousand times stronger than I always knew you to be. You withstood this torture, and withstood torment from us who love you beyond anything else and still you are strong. Still there was enough of you to return to us. For a time we feared... it would not be the case."

"I was ready to give in. I had given up hope. Too many times had I felt my heart soar as you and Elrohir ran into the room and took me from it, speaking of escape and freedom. Too many times had I felt my heart break as their rough hands touched me. Their rough bodies. I could not... And still there are doubts in my mind. If this comes to be another falsity I should not think I would survive it."

"Then be thankful that it is not, and let me change those bandages so that we might prevent the loss of your hands."

-

-

-

-

-

-

It seems half was too hopeful. You've all disappeared! Oh well... Just in case there's anyone out there too lazy to review... the next instalment.


	7. Elrohir

AN: Before I start on this chapter I have to say a big thanks for the reviews I got for the last chapter. You have no idea how much it means to me. I can shake off a little self-doubt now and just get on with it.

-

-

"I should rather like to get out of bed for a while. I have spent too long here and I feel quite revitalised." Elrond looked down at Legolas for a moment, taking in the soft blush that was beginning to brighten his cheeks once more. It was true he was very much better, the infection in his hands now all but gone and the wounds healed once more, but...

"Tell me the true reason and I shall consider it." There was a moment's uncertainty in his face, readable even without being able to see his eyes. Then he replied in a soft voice:

"Being trapped in here reminds me of the things that happened back there." Elrond nodded; he had suspected as much, but had needed the young elf to confirm it. He needed to start talking about those times, or he would never find peace.

"Will you tell me of it? It will help you rid it from your mind."

"Will you let me outside?" Elrond had to smile.

"We can talk of this in the courtyard; it will be quiet there, and private."

"I would like that."

-

There followed a complicated dance as Elrond - not wanting to wake Elladan for he had only just convinced him to get some rest - helped Legolas into a loose-fitting robe and lifted him gently into his arms. Though the weight-holding frames had been taken from around his legs, the splints remained to keep the delicate bone from moving out of place as it fused. Luckily, his joints had - for the most part - avoided the damage that the bones had taken, and so the braces were simply long struts along the sides of his legs, held tight with leather bindings that encircled the limbs. Lifted, he was a bulky load to bear, but together they manoeuvred out into the courtyard and with the aid of Glorfindel - who had spotted their approach - got Legolas settled in one of the wooden benches with a footstool to keep his legs elevated. As Elrond settled in the seat himself and dismissed his Seneschal with thanks, he watched the younger elf's expressions. He knew that the manoeuvring had been painful for the injured party, who's body had been still and at rest for so long. His face was pale and breathing shallow as he attempted to settle the pain that his body shouted to his mind. He took one deep breath and, composing himself, began to speak of a matter he thought never to have to think of again.

"When I was tortured I would be hung by my wrists, or a rope around my chest, and often blindfold. When they were done they would leave me for hours on end until one of the minions thought to come and collect me and take me back to the cell. It was an effective way of demoralising me, for it showed me just how weak I was. The knots were hardly tight enough that I couldn't have escaped them if I were strong enough, but I could not take enough weight on my legs to lift out of them." He paused to regain his composure as he felt his breathing racing out of control. Elrond reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, but it was pushed away as he quickly continued. "Once I was left for so long I wondered if I had been forgotten completely. I was too weak to do anything but dream of an escape, but I felt I was regaining my strength slowly. Then Elrohir and Elladan charged through the door, as though they had run all the way from Rivendell to free me." A smile flitted across his face in memory of the hope that had surged through him, though he had long known it to be false. "They cut me down and I was too tired and in too much pain to notice the roughness of their skin or their manner. They told me of their escape plan and I passed into reverie without thought - so safe did I feel in their protection." The smile became a sneer as he thought over his own naïvety. "I woke on a bed with sheets cool on my wounds and they lay with me and I knew that it was foul trickery for their touch was not theirs." He took a breath as his determination began to waver. His voice was muted as he continued. "But I was not strong enough to get away... never strong enough. This happened many times over, so many times they tricked me before I began to give up hope. Often they would leave me in the bed and take off the blindfold so that I would see them for who they truly were. And I could do nothing."

"When my sons come to you in the bed, you doubt them."

"I had given up hope, to take it up again is a dangerous thing. I do not think I would survive finding that I had been tricked again."

"Then let us all be thankful that this is no trick." Elrond offered softly, unconsciously echoing his son's words from the day before.

"I feel I have betrayed them." His words were so quiet that Elrond strained to hear them, as though to speak them aloud could make them more of a reality. "I do not know how they can do more than pity me now. They cannot love me again."

-

"Elladan." Legolas spoke softly as his lover settled himself in the chair beside his bed that evening.

"I am here." A strong hand gripped his shoulder.

"Talk to me, it is too quiet."

"It is very still outside, the wind has dropped and so the leaves do not stir. If we do not have a thunderstorm tonight, there will be one tomorrow." The older twin explained the unnatural quiet of the evening.

"I thought it impossible for bed weather to invade this realm."

"It is unusual, but not unheard of. Else nothing would grow, and it would be a most sad land for a wood-elf to visit." Legolas could hear the smile in his voice as he teased. Once he would have made a joke about there being little else to draw him into the realm save the greenery, but he could not find the heart. His fears were too strong.

"Now I think of it," He forced out, jolting himself from maudlin thoughts. "I remember a thunderstorm in an age when Aragorn was Estel, and much smaller; though no less commanding. He ran through the corridors shouting that battle was come, and we should seize arms."

"He had hold of a knife before anyone could stop him and was ready to go to war with the elements. He cannot have been more than five, the knife like a sword in his hands."

"It seems so long ago."

"Much has happened in those few years. Things move at men's pace now, and change so much faster."

"He is a King now, and all his future laid out before him."

"With dear Arwen at his side." The sadness in his tone was palpable.

"Why does this sadden you so?"

"Of course... you would not know." He sighed. "She has made the choice to sunder herself from elf-kind. She has taken on a mortal life and will live with Aragorn for the fullness of their years until they are done, and then they will die together - as she wished it to be."

"Then we must rejoice for them." Legolas offered softly. "For the future can only hold joy for them, until the end of their days." With hesitation, he lifted one hand and reached out, finding Elladan's face more by chance than accuracy and cradling his cheek to wipe away a silent tear with his thumb.

"I cannot wait to tell them of your recovery." Elladan recovered himself, sniffing a little and injecting his tone with enthusiasm. "We have kept it secret, and they still fear you are dead and beyond all help."

"You have not told them..." His tone was hesitant, confused. Were they ashamed of him? That would be worse than no longer having their love, for to be a burden to their house would drive them away and he still had hopes of keeping them nearby, even if he could no longer be theirs.

"You must understand why I made this decision, for I see in your face that you are offended. When we got you back you were more orc than elf. It was desperation that drove us to hide you away from the others, for I knew that they would not hesitate to kill an orc, and few would look far enough to recognise you. But still you shunned us all when conscious, though now we know why. We asked for Gandalf's help when he first visited after the war. He was aching with new-found power and was quick to accept the challenge. It drained him; we sat in the room watching him tire hour by hour. But we saw you change too. Scars healed before our eyes, your skin became white again, not sickly pale grey. Strange cat's eyes hid your own... I cannot wait to get this," A hand brushed along the blindfold, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. "off you so that I might make sure they have changed back with all the other signs." He sighed, pushing away memories of that more disturbing change. "When, even after Gandalf's apparent success you refused to accept us, we were forced to contemplate never getting you back. For us this was worse than loosing you to Mandos' halls; this was failing you twice. We were given a chance to bring you back and could not. Elrohir became very ill and when Aragorn visited we told him it was the grief of loosing you. We could not stand to give others such pain, nor stand to feel their wrath for our failure. Since you're getting better now, I will leave it to you to decide who is told and when."

"Elladan, where is Elrohir? I have not seen him yet." His voice sounded strained. He had not missed the hitch in the older twin's voice when he mentioned the younger. "You said he fell ill. Where is he?"

"He is... wavering close to Mandos' Halls." Elladan replied, choked. "Grief has a strong hold on him, and none can rouse him enough to tell him of your recovery. We can only pray for him."

"You must take me to him!" Legolas cried out. "Why would you keep this from me? I love him as I love you, you must take me to him!"

"We could not risk a relapse, father said it was best if you did not know. And you are not well enough to go to him; you cannot stand, let alone walk."

"Then you must carry me."

"I must do nothing, this is foolish."

"Then I will get there on my own!" Roughly he pushed aside the blankets, swinging splinted legs to the side of the bed and unable to contain a hiss of pain.

"Stop this!" Elladan shouted. "You will undo all of Ada's healing." Legolas paused, wavering. He calmed himself, knowing that he would not be able to reach the room on his own. He wasn't even sure which room _he_ was in.

"Please, Elladan. I could not stand to have him die without trying everything. At the very least I would be near by." Elladan lay a gentle kiss on his forehead, both of them relishing the closest contact they had had in many months.

"Come then, let us do this carefully."

-

Elrohir's room was deathly quiet as Elladan stepped inside with his burden. Elrond slept in a chair on one side of the bed, Erestor looked up from the other as the door opened. There was a shocked double take from the house's advisor before he gave up his chair, letting Elladan place Legolas down and moving a stool alongside to rest his legs on. Taking one of Legolas' hands Elladan placed it on Elrohir's cheek.

"Wake him if you can Melethron. I beg of you. For nothing we have done has succeeded." Elladan's voice woke Elrond, both confused and overjoyed to see both in the room with him.

Elladan took Elrond aside to explain as Legolas explored a familiar face with hands that were no longer the same. Tears dampened the bandages about his eyes and, escaping, traced his cheeks as he found a clammy brow and closed eyes, and he had to make two attempts to wipe them away, the first time missing with ghost fingers. He leant over until he was in danger of over balancing with his legs raised as they were, and placed a hand on either side of Elrohir's face, brushing aside long strands of hair.

"Come back to us Melethron. There are two here that cannot survive without you." He whispered, choked in sadness that he was the cause of his love's condition. Elladan looked over, his own heart in his throat as he watched the two he loved most in the word, both suffering so. How terrible a turn the world can take with so small a change. Elrond placed a hand on his shoulder as silent tears began to trace his own face.

"One." The whispered reply was so quiet that it took all in the room a moment to believe that they had heard it.

"No, love. Two." Legolas' reply was stronger. "Listen to my voice. Do you not know me? I am a little changed, it is true, but I need you and love you still." Elladan took a seat on the edge of the bed opposite Legolas and laid his own hands on top of his.

Elrohir opened his eyes slowly, as though struggling against a weighty force.

"I feel I have slept for a month." He murmured, his eyes falling shut as he lost the battle.

"You wouldn't be far off, my brother, though you have a good record of sleeping when there's work to be done." Elladan teased through tears now pouring freely, with a completely different cause.

"How does Legolas fare? My heart is weighted still, has there been no change?"

"Aye, there has been change indeed if he might fall asleep at your bedside." Elladan laughed, for Legolas had indeed fallen asleep with his head on the bed, in what could not be a comfortable position. He had been awake for the longest time since his recovery, it was not surprising that he had been exhausted by events. This time Elrohir's eyes stayed open long enough to take in Legolas' pale face beside his own.

"Elbereth." He breathed. "Has he always been so beautiful?"

"Brother, I shall get jealous." Elladan teased, trying not to laugh at how Erestor was blushing. They had never been loud about their relationship around the noble house of Imladris, but now was no time for modesty. They had time to make up for.

"He cannot be comfortable like that, come, this bed is plenty big enough for the three of us." Elrohir shuffled across so that Elladan could shift Legolas into the bed. Preparing to get in himself on the other side of Legolas, Elladan was stopped by his father's hand on his shoulder. He looked back into a frowning face.

"Father, if you have a problem with us sharing a bed after all this time I suggest you go somewhere else." Elrond chuckled at his son's challenging glare.

"No, it is not that. Only that I wouldn't surround him so in sleep." He continued more seriously. "I fear he would not react well to waking so trapped."

"But it is how we have always slept." Elladan objected in a whining tone.

"Aye and maybe the orcs lay with him like that as well, have you considered that?" Elrond hissed, keeping his voice low so that Elrohir wouldn't hear. "He may be better, but he is not yet healed from his experiences. Give him a little time before acting as though nothing has changed."

-

There was no thunderstorm that night, nor the day after. It seemed the energy of the skies simply dissipated. Dawning bright, the day held more hope for the family of the Peredhil than it had for some time.

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

Lady Janelly - Let's hope that hope can get them through the trials to come. ;) s'not over yet.  
-

legolas lover - no fear in me stopping after that set of reviews.

-

Split Persona - Thanks sooooooooooooooooo much for taking the trouble to write an email review. I was very worried I'd lost you back then. It means a huge amount to me that you're still reading. Orc bashing...? You'll have to wait see. Perhaps we'll get him back on his feet first? :P

-

Deb - thanks for declaring yourself. :D You can come again ;)  
-

Blaise - Again, thanks. It's always so hard to know how a story's going down when the readership is silent. That's a good point actually... what DO you call them? Do they count as a menage-a-trois? ... hmmm...


	8. Fears

AN: I got half way through this chapter and thought 'I wrote a line of script for this that I found quite funny at the time... now where did I put that...' so I have gone through all of my note pads for the last three months (no small task as any writer will confirm). Finally (hurrah!) I came across it, written during my travels across India of all the times. And it wasn't quite so inspirational as I remember it being (but then any thought processes at 12000ft can be remembered as inspirational). Bet you can't spot it.

Sorry... I'll shut up now.

-

-

The light of the evening came in low through the windows, a soft peach tone colouring the walls. Dusk was settling across the lands, and a soft wind stirred the tree that stood tall and proud outside the window. The stone of the short balcony - tinted with the sunset as it was - looked warm and inviting, just perfect for three slim elven bodies if they weren't too worried about getting close. The drapes that were tied at the corners of the windows softened the light further, leaving the room set in a dim half-light. As he looked the last ray of sunlight reached his window and shot his world through with red and orange.

It was a stunning sight for one who opens his eyes not quite sure what he will see. He met Elrond's gaze as the dusk set in and smiled.

"You are a sight for sore eyes." Elrond could not help but chuckle as he moved to light the torches in brackets around the room, and used one of those to light the fire ready prepared in the grate.

"How do you feel?"

"Wonderfully reassured. Though it all feels a little bright." Elrond nodded, happy with that diagnosis. He moved to take a look himself, turning Legolas' face towards the torches so that he could see properly. Happy that the distortion that the healer had seen when he had first arrived was gone, he stepped back and raised one eyebrow in inquiry.

"Would you like to rest a little, or are you ready for company? It is taking Glorfindel and Erestor to keep them away, but once they know you are well I think they will be more patient."

"No. I must do this before I loose the nerve. I could not rest not knowing." Elrond exited the room on silent feet and, still consigned to his bed until his legs healed, Legolas waited.

-

When the twins entered the room moments later his hands were shaking and he watched the half-formed things with a grim interest. He jumped and flinched when Elladan cleared his throat from the doorway, but could not bring himself to lift his gaze to meet them. Together the twins moved closer, one taking up a place on either side of his bed. His eyes were clenched shut, tears streaming down his face.

"Melethron, what ails you? Do your eyes cause you pain? Should I call father?" Elrohir questioned. There was a shuddering sigh, but no response.

"It is us, is it not. You fear you will not see us; but some other, more foul thing." Elladan said, sadly. Legolas choked back a sob.

"We should go then. It would not do to cause you further doubt." Elrohir sighed, sadness in his voice as he stood ready to leave the room again.

"No!" And then his breath caught because he _had_ opened his eyes and before him sat two of the most beautiful beings on all middle earth. "By the Valar, do not go." He whispered.

"Then we shall not." And Elrohir could not help but smile.

-

The next hours, as the final light dimmed from the sky, were spent talking of inconsequential things. Elrohir was still being brought up to speed with events that had happened as he had lain in his grief-induced sleep, and Legolas simply absorbed the soft voices of those whom he loved as they talked of arrivals and departures, strangers on the borders and the movements of the Rangers. Slowly the night settled its soporific cloak over them and Elrohir moved so that he lay with his feet on one wooden high-backed chair, behind on another, and head in Legolas' lap - as soon as he had been assured that he would cause him no pain. Elladan, in a more comfortable chair, had draped himself sideways across seat - head on one armrest, legs over the other end. Elrohir had been busy examining the stumps of Legolas' fingers as the blond elf was distracted talking to Elladan, when his activities were noticed and Legolas pulled away sharply, as though stung.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you." Elrohir apologised quickly, biting at his lip in remorse.

"You didn't. Just... don't." Came the cold reply, the comfortable atmosphere shattered as the twins both sat back up in their chairs, glancing at each other with concern.

"Something worries you still." Elladan observed. "There is a tension in you I do not understand. Tell us, Legolas, else there is nothing we can do."

"I... it is just that..." He sighed. "My words betray me."

"It does not matter, just sit a while and they will come to you." Elrohir advised.

"I... fear." The words were choked, for he had not meant to utter them at all, and in truth his thoughts stood unspoken on his tongue, yet terribly near to hand.

"What do you fear, our love? We would vanquish your fear, what ever it takes."

"I do not think that this is a fear so easily vanquished." He half-laughed, voice still tight and unforgiving as he forced his words past the lump in his throat.

"We can do nothing if you do not tell us of it."

"I fear... your love. No... that is not right... I fear that... that you will have no love... that I am no longer worthy of the love... or you will think me..." Abandoning the words, he hid his face in his hands, and then remembered himself and crossed his arms hurriedly, hiding his hands from sight. "How can you take me back? You are so full of beauty, and... I am... not. I have nothing to offer you any more. Everything that I once was is gone." Neither twin could do anything but stare for a moment.

"You cannot truly believe that." Elladan broke the silence first, his voice roughened with emotion, for it was very clear that Legolas really did believe his words. Elrohir had tears in his eyes at the pained admission, and did the only thing he could think of. Standing so that he could bend over the bed, he captured Legolas' mouth with his own. The kiss was brief, for as soon as Legolas started to relax into the gesture he pulled back as though hit.

"I cannot!" The pain in his voice was evident. "You will not wish..." He said nothing more, for this time Elladan had kissed him, and with Elrohir's head on his shoulder and a gentle hand on his cheek he could not find the willpower to pull away. Releasing him softly, Elladan held his gaze, hand still resting on his cheek.

"You need offer nothing to us. We love YOU. Not what you represent, or what you are able to do. You are more beautiful than ever for what you have survived, for returning to us, for still being here." Elladan looked to Elrohir for confirmation.

"I would not care if for the rest of our days on Middle Earth we must care for you. I would do it without hesitation, and love you still. And Elladan too. Our love is unconditional."

"I would hate to need care for the rest of my days." He replied absently, mind on too many other things.

"Few would desire it. But what we are saying is... your fears are needless. We will love you no matter what." Looking up, Legolas met first Elrohir's eyes, and then Elladan's.

"I do not think I could... at least not straight away... it would..." Elladan halted the clumsy words with a soft kiss.

"If you think that is all we have you here for, you think less of us than I could believe." He replied with laughter in his voice.

"We are patient." Elrohir whispered, a little more serious, but still with a voice full of laughter.

"Do not tease." A soft blush crept up on Legolas, and a smile replaced the deep frown that had followed the whole conversation. Satisfied that at least some of his fears had been laid to rest, and knowing that not all wounds could be healed in one day; the twins continued to tease relentlessly, late into the night.

-

When Elrond came by later he found all three asleep, Elladan with his head on Legolas' chest and Elrohir with his nose buried in blond hair and one hand thrown across both to rest over Elladan's back. Smiling to himself, he left the three - finally _truly_ reunited - to their rest.

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

Lady Janelly : My goodness you're fast! I intended to post both these at the same time, got distracted and before I knew it... there's a review from you! I'm glad you liked :D Hope this is just as good.


	9. Feet

AN: sorry about the long wait, there were several different ways of setting up this chunk of timeline, and each had a different thing about it that I liked and didn't want to lose. Hope I picked the right one for you.

-

-

-

They sat together on the bed, three pairs of feet on the floor. Legolas sat between the twins, but he did not look at them; his head on his hands, balanced on his knees. The position was painful - his weight resting on weakened limbs - but he savoured the pain, for it took his mind from a larger failure.

"You knew that this would not come straight away, that it would take time." Elrohir offered softly, giving his brother a despairing glance over the top of Legolas' head.

"It has been a week." Came the blunt reply.

"Yes, only a week since the supports were removed." Elladan agreed, hoping that perhaps they were getting somewhere with the stubborn elf.

"And still I cannot even _stand_ unaided!" Sitting up, he twisted around so that he could lay his head against Elladan's chest and lifted his feet to lay across Elrohir's legs. Leaning against the headboard, Elladan resigned himself to the fact that Legolas wasn't in the mood for exercises today, and pulled him closer to lay a kiss on the crown of his head. Elrohir shifted so that he was lying alongside the other two, his head on Legolas' stomach and his legs dangling off the end of the bed. "Perhaps it is better for them to think me dead. I could take on a new identity, cast off who I was. I would spare them the pain of this knowledge." Legolas' words were soft, and he closed his eyes and turned his face away so that he wouldn't have to see the twin's loathing.

"You would fool none who has known you, for you are barely changed in appearance now that your scars are fading." Elrohir's reply was slightly strained, but he could see the anger building in his brother's face, and he didn't think it would help matters at all for them to get angry at such an idea. It was of course, the same reason they had hidden his survival in the first place.

"I do not have to see those that know my face, or have them see me. I have gone centuries without seeing one who knows me, I could do so again."

"And what of us?" Elladan retorted sharply. "Would you have us grieve for Legolas as well? I am not sure I could fall in love with another. I fear fading at your loss."

"That is not..."

"Oh, but it is... To separate yourself from all that know you, you would leave us. Did you think of this when you made your plans."

"They are not plans. Only... how can I go before my father like this. He would not take me back; I am only a burden to him as I am now. Worth nothing to my country." Elrohir could not comprehend the King of Mirkwood, and too often he found himself giving up long before he got anywhere, for the man was simply too stubborn and hardheaded. Only his harsh influence could get Legolas thinking of himself in such a way, and it had taken them many years to convince him that he was no such burden to them. This had been long before his kidnapping; to have such painful thoughts brought back at this time was not going to help him progress.

"Your father does not need you back immediately. You have a world of time before you must return to him, but think how much he must suffer at the thought of your death."

"I feel as though I am suffering a defeat. I do not know how to win this battle, and I cannot simply wait for it to come upon me. I am torn asunder."

"What can we do?" Elrohir, ever practical.

"I do not know... nothing, I fear."

"Then let us find something to distract us from the coming battle, even if it only be for today. We can return to the fight tomorrow, yes?"

"I cannot give up." Determination returned.

"It has never been in your nature." Elrohir teased, smiling again as his heart fluttered at the near miss. Hope was all that their love had left, he could not be allowed to lose it.

-

"This is Arod - he bore you and I back from Mordor. Elrohir could not control his mount well enough to carry two." Elladan looked unreasonably proud that he had bested his brother in a matter involving horses. He made no mention, of course, of the exact reason why Elrohir's horse had been reluctant to take the second load, nor the manner of his transport back. "I have not seen a better mount not trained by elven hands, saving Aragorn's of course. He always did have unreasonable talent." In Elladan's mouth, the word 'unreasonable' seemed to stand for 'better than mine'. "I lost Caranel to an orc sword in the battle, it seemed Arod's master was lost too, so he took me as his new master." Elrohir appeared behind his brother with two more horses.

"Come then, if we are to go. Else it will be long dark before we return." He urged. He paused, looking between Legolas - who sat upon a bench on the edge of the stable courtyard - and Arod. "How are we to do this?" He asked with the hint of a smile. "And keep the dear prince's pride intact."

On a long rein from Elladan, Arod turned to snuffle at Legolas' hair. Taking the horse's chin in his hands, Legolas brought him down to face him and blew gently in his nose to introduce himself. Satisfied that introductions were complete, Arod ducked his head low and Legolas took hold of a handful of mane. From there, it seemed there was no transition between him seated on the bench and seated on the horse. Elladan blinked.

"How..."

"I don't think I could do it again in so short a time, melethron." Legolas breathed, for the strenuous movement had obviously pained him. "Maybe I will show you later." Elrohir moved up alongside him, already mounted, and rested a hand on his shoulder to make sure he was okay. He smiled over his shoulder at him, leaning forward a little to pat Arod in thanks, for it had been a quick movement of the horse's head that had aided his lift into position. Elladan was quickly mounted up and on his other side, a bright smile on his face. Cúdîn - Elrohir's horse - danced impatiently as they prepared to depart.

"Cúdîn feels he has been neglected these past few weeks. He is impatient, and wants to run." Elrohir excused his behaviour.

"Then let us run." Legolas responded, driving Arod onwards before either twin could object or question. The two left the courtyard at a canter, dodging the stablehand as he entered the stables and heading for open ground. Sharing a smile, the twins chased after him, dodging the stableboys following after their master.

"I think perhaps Cúdîn is not the only one impatient to run, Brother." Elladan laughed as he urged Rochûl - the horse he had chosen from the young newly broken colts to replace his own mount lost in battle - onwards across the trail Legolas was following.

-

They raced along the trails, slowing only when there were other people to pass. They slowed a little as they turned back towards the houses, the horses tiring a little. As Elladan had said, Arod was supremely responsive for a man's horse - for the aids given by an elf riding without tack were quite different to those of a man riding with it, and the way men broke horses often led to them being unresponsive to the softer aids. Easing him into a gentle walk, Legolas waited for the twins to come alongside him.

"Tell me a little more of what happened in the month I was missing, for I have only heard the most meagre of details." He urged. "Did the dwarf survive? I remember he was knocked down..."

"He was well, though he missed you most grievously. It was the most unusual friendship I have seen you make, 'las, for he was near convinced you were going to walk out of the mists to rejoin the cause."

"It is his way, I think. He packages grief until the work is done and there is a better time for it." He offered sadly.

"He would be overjoyed to know that you are well." Elrohir offered, before continuing. "Aragorn and Arwen you know are well, as with Mithrandir..."

"Who, it seems, still sleeps in one of our guestrooms - or if he has left, has done so supremely quietly."

"Merry and Pippin left little changed, it seemed to me, by their adventures - though they both stood a little taller."

"And a little prouder."

"Frodo seemed weighted by his ordeal, though I would expect no less. Sam... I have never known what to make of Master Gamgee..."

"I would say he seems quieter, though he was never particularly loud, and stronger, though I would not have called him weak... does that make sense?"

"It has brought out the best of him." Elrohir offered.

"Precisely." Legolas couldn't help but smile at the dual commentary. As they returned at a leisurely pace to Rivendell, they continued to tell Legolas all they knew of the War of the Ring from the point at which he had left its story.

-

Reaching the courtyard just as dusk was settling over the sky, all three slipped from their mounts - still talking of the events recently passed, and with the twins still dropping surreptitious hints regarding the revealing of Legolas' recovery to his friends.

His calves ached agonisingly, and it was this that brought his attention - a little belatedly - to the fact that, although he had a grip on Arod's mane, Legolas was in fact still stood beside the horse - not hung by his arms. Unfortunately at this point, Arod realised that the stable hands were feeding the stabled horses and decided to wander off in search of his own dinner. Flapping a little as he felt his weight transfer and his knees begin to buckle, two hands caught his own and held his balance a little longer, taking his weight when he found he could no longer hold it. The size of the grin on his face was much larger than the size of his achievement, but given the non-progress he had been experiencing he allowed himself a little pride.

-

Suspended between two pairs of strong arms, taking pointed steps though his feet barely touched the ground, the strange conglomeration of elven kind made its unsteady way along the corridor, bumping, jostling and laughing. Coming across another elf, all three paused, unsure if they were the reason for this one's emergence - the hour suddenly making its self known.

"Good eve, Father, sorry if we disturbed you."

"No indeed, I wanted to see you." Elrond smiled. "I have received a message from Aragorn; he wishes to return with his wife to her home for a week's rest from the stresses of his new position. A much-delayed honeymoon, if he might." He caught Legolas' gaze, seeing how he had paled. "I thought you should have warning. It will not be for a fortnight or so yet, they only set off a small number of days ago and are in no rush." The softness of the Lord's voice soothed his panic a little, though Legolas' heart still raced at the thought of facing his old friends.

"Thank you father. We look forward to their arrival." Elladan said with a sincere smile, grasping the hand that lay over his shoulder in reassurance.

"I will leave you to your evening." Elrond dismissed them with a smile.

-

Elladan's room was quiet and the three settled on the bed for a moment before Elrohir - comfortable in his brother's room - got back up to light the torches with the tinderbox that sat on the side and, drawing the heavy drapes against the chill spring draughts, moved to light the fire. As the light permeated the room, Legolas' gaze was caught by an object covered with a velvet cloth in the corner of the room. With a series of graceful half-falls - using all of the furniture in the room as he traversed it - he made his way into the corner and sat beside the object. Elrohir had returned to the bed and together they sat, eyes serious as they held each other close, watching in silence as Legolas retrieved what was hidden.

"Where did you get this." His voice was a reverential whisper as he looked over the article uncovered. It was a Lothlórien bow, the twin of the one he had been gifted as he passed through the Golden Wood, in a time that seemed millennia before.

"It was passed on to us in the hopes that we might meet up with you and be able to give it to you." Elladan said softly.

"The message that travelled with it was cryptic and... we thought you dead... we did not know what to do with it. We kept it close in hope... for who knows what the Lady of the Wood knows."

"She said... 'I would have you give this to the young archer of Mirkwood when you see him next,'"

"'For I fear he will have lost the first gifted to him;'" Elrohir provided the next part.

"'And he will have need of it before the end.'" And Elladan finished.

"Sometimes I wonder if this was her way of giving us a sign. To keep us looking for you." The twins shared a smile.

"We almost didn't heed her warning." Elrohir frowned.

He sat in the corner of the room, the bow balanced across his lap and one hand caressing it continually. "There is something I would tell you..." There was a waver in his voice, and he glanced up to see if they had noticed, and rolled his eyes as he found two concerned stares fixing his own. "That I will find difficult to tell of, but I must... To expel the memory, I must tell you of it."

"May we come sit with you?" Elrohir asked, seeing the indecision in Legolas' face and knowing it must be something serious for him to fear even talking about talking about it.

"I will..." He looked at the bed, seemingly weighing up the distance. Elladan snorted and moved across the room and lifted Legolas effortlessly. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to lay a soft kiss behind Elladan's jaw as he wrapped his arms around his neck - tiredness resisting any objection he might have made to the assistance. He was shocked to find tears building in the twin's eyes as he deposited gently him on the bed.

"Sorry." He whispered, unsure what he was apologising for, but knowing it was his fault.

"Don't be." Came the strong reply. "It is only..." The older twin was biting on his lip, fighting back stronger tears. "It is good to have you home." He sat on the bed beside him - all three with their backs up against the headboard, Legolas between them. Joyfully synchronised; two kisses were placed on his cheekbones, one on each side.

"Tell us your tale, take heart in our presence." Elrohir urged, reaching around behind the blond elf to caress a line down Elladan's cheek - a silent reassurance, and a promise of future care of wounds still raw.

"I remember the exact moment that my will was broken." He began slowly, as though he had practised the words he would use. "I remember it too clearly, and think before now I might have broken a second time with the telling. But now I feel strong enough and I would have you know what it took to break my soul and make me give in to the darkness." He took a breath, ignoring the hesitation fear brought to his lungs. "I had long given in to the fact that the voices that reached me were not your own. No longer did I react to their arrival and my supposed rescue I had even stopped being hurt by their attacks on my body and I was far too numb to notice whether or not they were beating me - I had reached a point where nothing hurt, nothing got through, I didn't feel or see or hear... Or so I thought." He was forced to take a breath and hesitated again, having said the easiest part and now unwilling to go on. "I had been left alone for a long time, I think, for the wounds on my body were beginning to retreat and heal a little. I was brought out of reverie by your voices, but I was not blind-fold and that was unusual." Confidence rose as the words flowed a little easier than expected. "It was that, I think, that made hope rise in me again, for if I were to see you I would know that it was truly you. That hope pushed me onto a knife-edge. If it were you I would have been healed in an instant, strong enough to push out of my stupor, maybe even help you fight your way out. If it was not, and they were to carry out their usual tricks... I think my soul would have failed and I would have died from grief right there. But instead the pattern was changed. Guards' voices I heard, and then the clash of metal as they fought. I heard orcs dying, and my hope rose higher. And then..." He glanced at the younger, then the older in turn, hesitating. He did not want to go on. Did not want to relive those moments. Elladan held his gaze, taking his hand in his. "Then I heard you call Elrohir's name," His voice broke a little, but he forced himself on. "Scream it as though your heart were breaking." Tears in his eyes, blurring his vision. The memory of silence. Absolute silence, ringing in his ears as he strained for a sign. Any sign. Watching a door that would never open. Watching hope fade as the darkness took his heart and his mind. Feeling the shadow become his only hope in a body that fought for survival with every fibre. A soul that just wanted peace. "And then silence... You were dead, both of you, and I could not fight any longer. I could not save you, not alter your fate. I had been forced to stand on by. That was how I broke, for what I remember beyond that does not feel like my own thoughts. They are thoughts of darkness and hatred and his voice close and sickly, whispering dark promise and dark threats into my heart." He hiccoughed a little as he fought his emotions back under control, the story now told. Swallowing back more tears, he found himself enveloped in a strong double embrace, and not all the tears falling were his own. Safe, more safe than he had ever felt, he allowed the tears to fall and soaked up the warmth of the two that loved him more than any other in Arda.

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

Dunno if the trick with the seated vault is possible. I can't vault bareback from standing up, and I don't have a horse to practice on (damn it). But I was thinking about the way Brad Pitt vaults when he's playing flashy (watch Legends of the Fall and to a lesser extent Troy) - he seems to go up horizontal, leading foot first. I would think it would look something like that.

Just thought I'd explain my reasoning there...

-

Caranel - Red Star

Cúdîn - Silent Bow (or thereabouts)

Rochûl - Horse of the Wind (approximately)


	10. Visitors

AN: This chapter was uncomfortable to write, partly because I don't know Arwen very well but knew I wanted to feature her. I hope it doesn't come across as badly as it went down on paper.

And to anyone who noticed, yes, I did say autumn in the last chapter, and before that it was spring, and now it's summer. My bad. I'll change it asap.

-

-

-

The King and Queen of Gondor's arrival - early on the morning of June 6th - came with little warning. They rode in surrounded by the King's Guard - newly reformed with the return of the line of Kings - mounted upon gaily decorated horses. The banner of Gondor flew behind them, the young standard bearer proud of face, though he fought now and again with the banner as it tangled in the trees of its homeland, where Arwen had long worked on it before its unveiling. A large part of the host waited outside of the grand archway that constituted the main entryway into the grand home; as the pair, with their standard and a few guards rode up to their own home.

Elrond greeted them as they entered, stepping gracefully out to meet them just as they appeared; a soft smile of welcome on his face. He greeted his daughter as she dismounted, taking her in his arms and laying a kiss on each cheek. Aragorn offered him an elven bow as his horse was taken from him along with the others' - one fist on his chest, the other hand cast outwards as if taking in the whole of his surroundings. Elrond nodded seriously, but a smile quirked his lips upwards even as he did so, the warmth in his manner a more homely welcome. Drawing the two inside - and noting that their guard followed carefully, though they seemed taken in by the beauty and splendour of their surroundings - Elrond led them into the hall and offered them a seat as food was brought and laid on the tables between them.

Aragorn was quickly sprawled across the chair, completely at home in the house that had once kept him. Arwen - though she sat tall and proud beside him - looked more comfortable that Elrond had seen her for many ages; a soft smile gracing her lips at her Husband's behaviour, one eyebrow raised mockingly in an expression her father found disturbingly familiar.

"How goes life in Minas Tirith?" He asked, knowing that much work had been taking place to rejuvenate the city after its harsh treatment at the hands of Sauron's servants.

"The place was overrun with dwarves when we left - for Gimli has brought a veritable army to our gates, broken though they are - to work on the damage to the city. It was he that encouraged us to take a little time from the city, so that we could return to a land renewed."

"He has great plans for our home." Arwen's words were softer than Aragorn's, but no less affectionate. Elrond found himself strangely surprised by this, though he had never thought his daughter to be prejudiced. Perhaps it was the reassurance in her words, as though soothing some hurt in Aragorn - though it was not a role he had ever thought for her. Certainly, though he could not place the exact source, his daughter was changed by recent events. She had gained something more, in her posture and her words, than he had ever seen in her before. He silently regretted missing so much of her life since her mother had passed. She had received better care in Lothlórien than he could have given her, deep in mourning as he had been. He had hardly been civil company even for his sons; but though his sons only reminded him of himself, she had so much of her mother in her... So much beauty. He was happy that she had found love despite her isolation in her Grandmother's realm.

"Elladan and Elrohir have a matter of which they wish to talk to you with great urgency, or so it seems to them. But your journey cannot have been restful, so I would urge you to rest a while before you allow them to drag you away. What they desire to tell you can wait a little while longer." Elrond confided.

"Must we be rested for what the twins would find it so important to tell us?" Arwen asked, smiling softly at her brother's antics - though she knew how much it had hurt them to have their lover lost to them. They had locked themselves away when they had returned from the war, and all the visitors her father had sent to them hadn't been able to draw them out of themselves. They had refused her visitation completely, and Mithrandir had seemed to give up and disappear himself. She hadn't been surprised when Elrohir had become sickly through his broken heart, and had been terribly sad to leave them both when they were in such straits. But Aragorn had needed her presence, and for him at least there was something she could do.

-

"We must reveal that we have been keeping something from you, and you may be angry at us, but the circumstances were forced upon us." The twins sat together on a small sofa in a common room adjoining the three rooms that had once been their's and Arwen's - when they had all been younger - and then they had returned to, millenia later, when they once again found the need for a third room. It had been rare - of course - that they used all three rooms at once, but they had found a need for their own space every so often. Aragorn found it strange that they would choose to address them here, in a place that held so many memories of the three of them together.

"'Tis regarding Legolas." Aragorn could not keep the pain or sadness from his eyes as he looked about the room, seeing sign of their cohabitation on every surface.

"Last time I saw you, Elrohir was deep in mourning; we are both glad to see you well again." Arwen offered quietly.

"That is part of the deception we must ask your forgiveness for. You see... Legolas is not dead." There was a shocked moment as the two absorbed this news.

"At the time we thought we might still loose him and Elrohir was close to succumbing to grief. We only sought to save you further pain in concealing this from you."

"But Ada succeeded in pulling him back from the edge, and this has allowed my recovery, and his."

"Which is not to say either of them are fully healed yet." Elladan clarified, with a meaningful glance at Elrohir.

"I am fine," He retorted. "But Legolas..." Elrohir stuttered into silence, movement in the corner of the room catching his attention.

"Stop now, and the poor man might allow you to survive this reunion."

Arwen had a pale hand over her mouth and silent tears streaking down her face as she turned to look at the wraith of their friend stood in the corner, leaning against the doorpost. Aragorn was on his feet and across the room before either twin could blink, enveloping Legolas in a huge bear-hug. Both twins got to their feet, expecting to have to separate their foster-brother from their lover quickly, but were waved back to their seats as Legolas accepted the embrace stiffly. Eventually he pulled away as he felt the heat of panic rising in his chest and stubbornly tried to soften his heavy limp as he moved across the room and squeezed into the seat between the twins.

"You know Ada will disapprove." Elladan nudged Legolas' knee with a grin.

"Let him. I got bored of waiting for you to stutter your way through an explanation." Aragorn had made his way back to his seat - perched on the edge - and was examining Legolas' face as though he expected never to see it again - which had once been the case.

"We thought you lost to us when you were captured in Fangorn. We dared not hope... How came you to be here?" Legolas hesitated and Elrohir gave him a pointed look.

"Now do you see why we asked you to wait?"

"It shouldn't be so hard for me to say." Legolas sighed.

"Would you like to go back to your room for a while longer?"

"No, you explain and I will listen."

"Are you sure?" Legolas glared, and Elladan rolled his eyes and turned to Aragorn, pausing as he found that he too was unsure how to explain, especially as Legolas was there in the room.

"Legolas was taken to Barad-dûr, where Sauron tried his very best to recreate his master's foulest work."

"Thankfully his strength is nowhere near that of the dark one, so with the help of Mithrandir it was possible to undo all that he had achieved." Elrohir added.

"We think he wanted to have some emotional weapon against you in that last battle. Seeing Legolas would have altered your sensibilities on the battle field." From their faces they could tell that, while Arwen understood their cryptic words and was horrified by the implication, Aragorn was lost.

"They tried to make an orc of me, Aragorn. I was to challenge you before the black gate in the last day before the downfall of the dark lord. A blow to your spirit if you were forced to strike me down, a blow to your self if you hesitated long enough for me to strike."

"But... I did not meet you in that battle." Confusion and hurt leant a stutter to his words.

"I wish I could say that was due to my own strength in resisting the darkness, but it was not."

"I came across him on the battlefield and recognised him for who he truly was. We took him from there in secret and brought him here."

"And you have waited so long to inform us?!"

"Aragorn, he only became sure that he had been taken from that place a short time ago."

"How could you think otherwise?" Confusion was evident in Aragorn's eyes.

"I did not want to acknowledge that I was alive, let alone have others know it."

-

Legolas stumbled as he entered his own room again, but threw off Elrohir's supporting hand roughly and marched over to the bed, throwing himself down.

"He has nothing but distaste," He declared, his tone angry though sadness placed a weight thick and heavy over his lungs. "I could see it in his eyes. And he could not see... all of me." He slowly rolled up the cuffs of the shirt he had been wearing, the sleeves long and flared, covering his hands and hiding them from sight. He looked upon them for a moment, before flicking the sleeves back down and crossing his arms. Slowly the twins approached, taking seats at either end of his bed. Elladan gathered him up in his arms from behind, chin resting on his shoulder. Elrohir moved closer and eased him arms out of their tense position, until he held his hands in his own. Pushing the sleeves up Elrohir lay a gentle kiss on each stump, holding his hands tighter as Legolas tried to pull away. He looked up and met the fiery anger in deep blue eyes. He grinned, and Legolas looked away.

"Your fear distorts your eyes," Elladan whispered in his ear. "You misread him. He has guilt in his own heart, for giving up on you when you were taken from the fellowship. But never have I seen distaste in his eyes save when looking upon..." Elladan hesitated, biting his tongue as he realised what he was about to say.

"Say it. You know what words hesitate upon your tongue."

"You are not one of _them_. You were _never truly_ one of them."

"How do you know? Do you see my mind? See the memories of that time... so clear. Do you know how an orc thinks? They have love, and laughter... it is not like our own - so different that you might not recognise it if you did not look close enough. They have wives who they love too much to allow out on the battlefield, they have warrior-brothers who they love just as much. They are silent before they go into war, for they take time to remember those who they love. And him. He was ou... was their god, their father. He gave them everything they needed." Grey eyes met with a flinch. Neither of them had missed the slip. What could they do with _this_ revelation?

"You must let Aragorn see you. If you would only talk with him, you would see that you are wrong."

"But what if I don't want to see? I tried to _kill_ him, Elladan. He is all but a brother to me. I was to be his weakness, to bring him to the ground one way or another."

"Do you blame us for being your weakness?" Elrohir asked quietly.

"No, of course not. But I _knew_ it wasn't you."

-

"Tell me truthfully, what is the damage to him?" Elrond looked up to find Aragorn stood in the doorway to his study. Gesturing for him to take a seat, Elrond frowned as he remained standing, only moved closer.

"He has become very good at hiding his injuries."

"He was limping heavily, though he tried to hide it."

"While captured, his legs were broken and allowed to heal in a way that would allow him to walk but only with great pain. I was forced to break the healed bone again to reset them in place. They are healing well now and the limp will fade, though I cannot say if it will ever be completely gone. He is still very easily tired, though most of the outward signs of his ordeal have healed." Elrond hesitated.

"You are hiding something from me. Do not."

"There is more, but it must come from him. He is... sensitive of the matter, and must be happy in himself before others are allowed to hear it."

"It has to do with his hands, I would say. For he kept them hidden and held them as though they pained him."

"It is enough to say that they knew that he was an archer, and have targeted his hands appropriately. It is unlikely he will touch a bow again." Aragorn paled.

"I can understand that would be... devastating. How is he..."

"Only my sons would know. Few of us have been privileged enough to speak with him on such sensitive matters." Elrond stood, taking Aragorn's hands in his. "Be patient with him. He is good at projecting normalcy, but there is still a great deal of pain in him. He fears rejection... he fears a great deal of things, but I think this is the most potent for him."

"He shall not find it in me."

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

Lady Janelly : THANK YOU! :D Glad you liked it, it was fun to write.

-

Jedi-Bant : Maybe. That would make me feel better... but you found it, so it doesn't matter! Thanks for the review.


	11. Windows

AN: Lady Janelly has brought something important to my attention. Sometimes, when you spend long enough thinking about a fic before you actually start writing it up, you get the picture of the circumstances fixed so securely in your head that you forget to tell your readers about them. For example, you wouldn't bother telling everyone that the sun is yellow when admiring the beauty of its presence in the morning, or remember to tell everyone that grass is green as your character splays out in its luscious leaves.

Yes, his fingers are gone, completely, as in... not there anymore. No healing that ladies and gents. Not even for an elf. Somehow I managed to completely avoid clarifying that anywhere in the last ten chapters. Damn those vague comments that seemed so brilliant at the time...

Warning: Suicidal thoughts and a whole chapter of... very little indeed. How do I manage it...?

-

-

-

The new-found King of Gondor wandered the pathways of Imladris, lost in thought. He would not have noticed his wife's approach if the pendant around his neck had not rung out in recognition of its mistress. The Evenstar had never looked more serene in her childhood home, for in Gondor the people needed a Queen to rival their King, and she had provided one. She worked with the people where she was able, watching the newly made orphans in the orphanage she had set up in the lower wings of the palace, tending the plants and flowers of the city until everything began to bloom again under the tender elven care. The vibrancy in her when she was amongst men was a curious opposite to her serenity amongst elves. She was near transformed when at his side, and so it was soothing for Aragorn to see her as she had always been long before he had been born.

"You fear for him, and needlessly. He has great strength in him."

"You have not seen... there is more than was shown to us." Arwen looked over his face carefully.

"Then I will leave you to your thought. Have peace, Elessar. He will win through this, Elrohir and Elladan would have it no other way."

"This at least I know." He smiled as she drifted away from him, away down another path. Her simple presence had soothed his worries, and his thoughts when he returned to them were more ordered; presenting to him one answer. He had to talk to Legolas.

Decision made, he turned to make his way back to the house, only to see a figure clothed all in white making his way away across the gardens. Curious and yet wary - Saruman had tricked them once already - Aragorn moved to confront him.

Mithrandir - though the name no longer seemed appropriate - turned to confront him before he could be identified. Caught by surprise Aragorn jumped, clutching at the hilt of his sword only to find it gone. There was no need to wear such a thing of war in the halls of Imladris. Gandalf laughed heartily at his panic, offering a smug smile in return to his disapproving glare.

"When did you arrive, oh great wizard?" Aragorn asked, not without a hint of sarcasm.

"Arrive? Dear Aragorn, I have never left. I have slept long and peacefully and now, after a little fresh air, I do believe a large breakfast would be in order. Would you join me?"

"Breakfast? But it is near time for dinner."

"It matters not. Dinner will do just fine."

-

While the two sat to an early dinner in the grand halls of Lord Elrond's realm, Gandalf proceeded to tell Aragorn all he knew - having none of Elrond's qualms about Legolas' privacy and knowing that Aragorn would need to know all he could if he were to help Legolas. He told him as much as he could of the nature of the darkness he had taken from the young elf, and the darkness that he had been forced to leave behind - the product of the twisting of his own soul.

When he left that dinner Aragorn found himself truly ready to confront the young prince, and headed to his chambers immediately.

-

He found Legolas and the twins sat upon the balcony of Legolas' room - three slender bodies only just fitting into the small alcove. Elrohir had his arm around Elladan and his head on his shoulder, while Elladan held Legolas on the other side. Aragorn cleared his throat gently to call attention to his entrance. Legolas didn't turn around, but the twins both looked back at him with sad eyes and Elrohir called him in with a motion of his head.

Stepping lightly back into the room, Elrohir pulled Elladan with him - leaving Legolas on the balcony alone, watching them go with sad eyes. Pushing Elladan though the door ahead of him, Elrohir paused beside Aragorn with a glance back at the figure on the 'sill who now had his head on his knees.

"Elladan needs some attention, he has been strong for us all these last few weeks." He glanced up at Legolas once more. "He fears what you might say to him. How you might see him now. He fears that this means he is weak." He met Aragorn's eyes. "We have said all we might. We know no more words that might reassure him. It is up to you now."

-

Legolas sat on the short balcony, hoping that Aragorn would simply leave, or that Elrohir would convince him to go. He could not bring himself to look back into the room, to see if he was still standing there - but he could feel his gaze on the back of his neck. He wished he would just come over and get this over with. He already knew the words he would use. He had seen the whole conversation in his mind. He would start by apologising for his abandonment, for his lack of rescue. Then he would tell him how little that did to soothe the hurt that his attack had brought. He would tell him how he could have turned the war. How many people's deaths he would have been responsible for. He would look on him as if he were an orc and tell him to take himself from this honourable house. Tell him of the disgrace he was bringing. And the pain to those he loved more than any other. And he would be right. Right in every word, every accusation. Aragorn would be right and then he would have to leave, for above all else he never wanted to bring hurt to those he loved. He glanced down, towards the ground. The room he was in was two floors up, and the ground looked terribly inviting. He knew that if he jumped he could reach the branches opposite and scramble to the ground. He also knew, a terrible knowledge, that if he jumped from the balcony with no aim for the branches he would likely plummet to his death. It wouldn't hurt for long, and so much pain would be over. It seemed so easy.

Aragorn sat beside him, taking up as much room as both the twins with his broad shoulders. You could rest such cares on those shoulders.

Legolas wedged himself in the opposite corner, restricting their contact as much as possible. The only way into the room was through Aragorn, and so he was trapped unless he wished to take the more dangerous route down.

"You shy away from me as if I hold some hurt or pain for you."

"Do you not? I know well what you might say to me."

"I fear you think me some other person. One filled with hate and spite. I have no such pain to give you." Legolas looked away, gazing out at that branch again. He could not follow, the man, he would be forced to take the longer way round. If he could only... A cold hand seized at his gut. He could not jump, for he could no longer catch himself. His hands... he glanced down and then looked away, his heart suddenly racing. It seemed a small thing, to think of dropping from the balcony, but to make a jump and miss... to fall... He could not.

He leant back, meeting Aragorn's curious eyes.

"Sometimes I wonder if I hate them and it is simply habit that has me love them so." The words flowed from his mouth uninvited as his mind pondered other things. "My mind became twisted in those dark places and I swore my undying hatred over and over. Bit I cannot hate them, for I do love them so and I truly could not live without them."

"Do you hate me? It was I who abandoned you to that fate." Legolas met his eyes.

"You are King Elessar. Even then your cares were for a greater cause."

"You did not answer my question."

"Of course I hated you. You were my friend, my brother. You did not even seem to notice as I was dragged from the field of battle. You assumed me dead, assumed me so weak as to fail at their hands. But I hate you no longer. I have delivered a far more heinous wrong upon you."

"I do not blame you for what happened. And you did not succeed. Your guilt for such an action is unwarranted."

"I remember it, Aragorn. I remember every moment. I did not even look at the faces of those who I struck down in effort to reach you." He had drawn even further into the corner, grasping his elbows and shivering as he started out into the woods. "I can remember wanting your death. Wanting to be seen to be strong in _his_ eyes."

"Come inside, I grow chill." He lied, standing and moving inside. Legolas followed slowly, feeling the ache in his bones that the stresses of the day was bringing.

He sat on the shallow window ledge, knowing that if he tried to stand and make his way over to the chair or the bed he would stumble, and not wanting to show such weakness when he was feeling so exposed.

"Must we talk further, I tire." He half-lied.

"Shake yourself out of this pitying rut." Aragorn replied harshly. "Can you not see what harm you are bringing? Elladan seems to carry permanent tears in his eyes. Elrohir is pale and gaunt. You must go to them and YOU must be strong."

"I have too much fear."

"You are not one to succumb to fear, Legolas. You cannot let it take you now."

"I am no longer the elf you knew."

"Tell me, Legolas. Tell me about the elf I once knew. Tell me how you differ."

"He was strong where I am weak. He brought laughter where I only bring tears. He is dead and gone while I remain, to bring pain to those I love."

"You will grow strong again; this weakness is only the lingering effects of your illness. As soon as you see this, and seek an end, the tears will stop - for all will see that you are healing."

"I have no place to take once I am healed. There is no future for me that I might see." Aragorn moved faster than Legolas would have thought possible for a man, seizing both his wrists and revealing his hands between the two of them. Aragorn simply looked for a moment, praying his emotions didn't show on his face. He had fully intended to look upon the wounds with a blank face and harshly deny his statement. It seemed to be the only way he was reaching him. The first thing his eyes noticed – for the mind is very good at failing to process images that it finds too upsetting – was the scarring across his knuckles. It looked a little as though his hand had been dragged through shards of glass. His fingers... he forced himself to focus upon them – it seemed they were simply gone, the stumps left behind only just rising above the first knuckles, the tips pink and puckered with scar tissue. Scars on an elf that should have long healed.

"The scars have not faded, why is that?"

"Perhaps it is because they are closer to my soul. Father always said an archer's soul started at his fingertips." His voice was soft as he met Aragorn's eyes, and he pondered that it was the first joke he had heard him tell. How was it that Legolas was now reassuring him? A soft smile flickered across his face.

"Do they hurt?" The question was out before he had thought about it. Such a childish request. 'Tell me you're ok.'

"Only in my soul."

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

AN2: regarding the 'ringing out' of the Evenstar's necklace. Watch/listen to the films very carefully and you will hear the same kind of glassy sound when either the necklace or the Evenstar herself appear, only really noticeable in the scenes where the two appear together, ie: the scene upon the bridge, and the reunion in Return of the King. It's pretty loud when the necklace is reunited with Aragorn at Helm's Deep too.

-

-

-

Jedi-Bant : Thanks for the review, the other characters will be turning up before the end, never fear.

-

kel : thanks for the review

-

Blaise : I'm writing, I'm writing!

-

Lady Janelly : See above. Yes, I'm a moron. Apologies...

-

Sylvie : Thanks so much, your review means a lot. Hope I can keep up to your standards.


	12. Meetings

Elladan leant back against his brother, absorbing the warmth and the calm that came from his embrace. They were sat together in one of the many gardens of Imladris, at the base of a huge oak tree with bluebells carpeting the ground at their feet. They had been offered so little time in the last months to simply sit, always planning or fighting or supporting. To have such a moment seemed bliss itself. Although... it seemed they were missing something. The thought seemed to cross both minds at the same time, resulting in an echoing comment of...

"Do you think Legolas..." Laughing at their synchronised thoughts, both stood to search out Legolas.

-

They didn't expect him to pass them as they made their way back towards the house, and even more startling was that he passed them at some speed. They stood for a moment, and glanced at each other - to make sure they had not been mistaken - and then looked behind themselves. Legolas was running down the main path through the valley, away from them.

"Legolas?" I didn't take Elrohir long to catch up with the running archer, his brother coming up along side him. He glanced around Legolas' back at his brother when Legolas didn't respond. "What are you doing?" He persisted.

"Running." Came the breathless reply.

"Why?" Elladan pressed.

"I need to regain my fitness."

"And does father approve of this training?" The brothers continued their dual questioning.

"Unlikely. I think that is why he confiscated my bow." The brothers both found themselves surprised to realise that they hadn't noticed the quiver and bow Legolas was carrying. Though he had been without the ability to use it for many months now, it still seemed perfectly natural to be seeing him carry it. They probably would have noticed if he had been missing the weapon.

"Is that _my_ bow?" Elrohir voiced the thought that had passed through both minds at the same time.

"I borrowed it, I hope you don't mind."

"But my bow is twice the weight of the Lothlórien bow you carry, the quiver is heavier too. Surely you'd be better off starting your training without any weight."

"It will be better for me when I get my own bow back. It will be easier." The twins frowned at the twisted logic. Legolas stopped unexpectedly, taking a seat beside the path and slowly retrieving control over his breathing. "I am bored of being still, or moving carefully. If Lord Elrond had his way I would be kept in those rooms until I gather dust through boredom."

"So you decided to come running?" Elladan asked, disbelieving.

"I run in the mornings every time I am here, it is a joy I cannot take at home... You know these things, have I done something wrong?"

"It is good to see you feeling so well." Elrohir soothed, glaring at his brother.

"We were looking for you, would you join us in a little gathering of dust?"

"Perhaps that would not be such a bad pass-time in these gardens." Legolas conceded, smiling.

-

Now all three sat in the clearing beneath the oak tree: Elladan up against the trunk; Legolas leant against his side, head on his chest; and Elrohir with his head in his lap, his back to the others. All three sighed in unison; the scents of the flowers that surrounded them, and the heat of the summer afternoon just arriving offered a soporific atmosphere and tempted them to sleep.

All three looked up sleepily as Aragorn and Arwen entered the clearing, obviously seeking a haven of their own, having escaped their ever-present guard.

"Ah, here you are. I was looking for you." Aragorn greeted as he spotted them. Arwen only offered them a smile at the man's half-lie.

"And you have found us, more than ready for an afternoon sleep in the sun. Must we talk now?" Elladan complained.

"We are to leave tomorrow morning, and then will be too late. I wished to ask you all back to Minas Tirith with us. There are many there that would be glad of news from this far north." Aragorn's gaze met Legolas', and did not leave his face even as he looked away.

"We would have to discuss it. It is a long way to go, and we have done much travelling in the last few months." Elrohir answered for all three, though it was obvious that Elladan was most eager, and Legolas was totally against the idea.

-

When Aragorn brought his lady to the courtyard the next morning he found all three mounted and ready, packs rolled behind their saddles and horses fresh. Cúdîn danced a little as Elrohir saluted the King, and Aragorn could only smile and bow in reply as his guards coaxed him into the carriage. He caught only one glimpse of Legolas behind the twins, and though he looked as skittish as Cúdîn regarding the coming journey, he also looked determined. They were going to Minas Tirith.

-

They rode for two days at a soft pace, forming a column about the carriage. Aragorn rode sometimes alongside them – indistinguishable in his ranger's gear from his soldiers – and sometimes within the carriage with Arwen. During the nights they camped beneath the cover of the trees and ate the meat brought to them by the archers that rode with them.

It was at dawn of the third day that the quiet routine was broken. Mist was setting over the woods as they packed up camp and the horses stirred uneasily, dew settling on their manes and tails as they were loaded up for the continuing journey.

It was the elves that heard them first, all three abandoning the awning that they had been taking down, and calling the soldiers to silence.

"Orcs." Elladan told Aragorn, as he walked over to them on silent feet in the wet grass.

"How near?" He asked, unable to keep his eyes from drifting across the clearing to where Elrohir stood with Legolas, hands tight on his shoulders as if to keep him from running. He looked so tense it didn't seem an unlikely prospect.

"Too near." Elladan replied. "They see as little as we do in this mist, but they are headed our way. We cannot clear the camp in time. They will hear the carriage if we try to move it."

"Leave the carriage, there are enough horses. Let us move from here as quickly and quietly as we are able." He told his men, gathering his pack and slinging it over Roheryn's back. He guided Arwen up onto a horse of her own and then drew his sword, gesturing for her to follow the others. As soon as everyone was mounted, the camp was abandoned, still holding the carriage and the remains of the tents.

There was a moment's silent pause as everything in the clearing held its breath in waiting for the disturbance that was to come.

An Uruk-Hai crashed through the foliage first, ignoring the half-trodden path and destroying as much as he could as he went. Near twenty orcs followed him, and clustered behind as he stopped to examine the abandoned camp. One bent and stuck his hand in the embers of the fire, only to jump back and yelp as he found them still hot.

"They've not gone far." The Uruk growled, whirling about to try and find the trail. "What say you to a little sport?" The grimace on his face was akin to a smile as the horses' tracks were spotted.

-

There was little for the men to do as the orcs came upon them. Their trail had been made easily, and the woods were harder to navigate on horseback than on foot. They fought to avoid being scattered; swords, knives and bows all to hand. Elladan kept Legolas beside him, Elrohir covering Arwen as Aragorn went to work. It was only as the fight was beginning, though, that Legolas found himself face to face with one of his worst nightmares. The Uruk that stood before him was none other than the one who would have been his master. It took very little encouragement for Arod to bolt from the fight, and the Uruk watched him go with an evil glint to his eye. Seeing him go, Elladan called out to him, glancing back only long enough to convey his intentions to his brother before following him away. Momentarily torn, Elrohir looked up as he was pushed away by Arwen.

"Go. If they get hurt you will never forgive me." She spoke softly, drawing her own short sword with meaning.

"Be safe, sister. I am rather fond of my neck." Calling two foot-soldiers to his sister's side, Elrohir raced after the other two. He drew Cúdîn to a skidding stop as he came face to face with the two he was looking for. And a third he was not. The Uruk stood before Legolas, who cowered beneath him, eyes wide with fear. With one great hand, it lifted him up by the neck, and he went so very limp that for a moment Elrohir feared the movement had broken his neck. The Uruk looked over him with disdain and then hurled him across the clearing. He rolled twice and then curled into a pitiful ball, visibly shaking.

There was a moment's pause as the Uruk looked over the two, standing on either side of the clearing that he had confronted Legolas in. He was easily another half their heights, and so broad across the shoulders it amazed Elrohir that he had been able to make his way through the tightly packed trees. The twins exchanged a glance and dropped from their horses, drawing their swords in synchrony. The Uruk smirked, sweeping wide with one hand as if inviting their attack. Elladan's blow fell first, swept aside by the great monster's scimitar, and Elrohir followed with a blow from the other side, falling just short as the Uruk stepped aside. The orcs were now flooding towards them, whether by some signal by their leader or simply by retreat from the men. Many of the orcs were injured or trailing wounded limbs, and several of them men were bearing wounds of their own. But all continued fighting, hindering each other through the crowding of the small space. Distracted by a man bumping into his back, Elladan was forced to duck quickly to avoid a sweep of the Uruk's blade and jumped back to plunge his own blade into his side, throwing his whole weight in to pierce the thick leather. Elrohir's blade whirred over his head as he drew back, taking the monster's head. There was a moment's breath as the orcs realised that their master was dead. It only lasted as long as it took the men to swing their swords.

-

Legolas' posture was tight and unrelenting, refusing to submit to their ministrations as he held himself in a tense ball. Gently they eased him back so that he was sat upright, and pulled his hands from his face, taking hold of one each. Wrapping their arms around him, they rocked him and soothed him as he sobbed his pain and shame to the forest. Aragorn looked over sympathetically, and then herded his men away to see to the damage to their camp.

-

"What happened?" Aragorn demanded curiously, when the day was over and they were camped again. They had travelled faster having left the carriage behind, but the night was chill and the tents too had been abandoned. "It seemed he simply ran from the orcs, and lay cowering while we fought them. He may not be able to use a bow but..."

"Think, brother," Elladan interrupted harshly, "if you will, on the sounds of a battle. It might remind you of something else, perhaps, the laboured breathing, the sounds of flesh on flesh? Perhaps the sound of a sword leaving a scabbard has memories for him too... memories of a time when he was no longer in control of that sound. When he was bound and trapped. Do you see now Aragorn? Can you see why this would cause him to react so? He did not have a holiday in Barad-dûr."

"I did not..." Aragorn looked truly mortified that he had not thought of such a thing. In truth he had thought little on Legolas' capture, more stunned by his continued survival and not focusing on what might have happened to him in between. This realisation made him realise something more and he looked to the twins with the depth of anguish in his eyes. "I hadn't thought." He murmured.

"Then perhaps think a little more before opening your mouth." He spat back in anger. Elrohir looked over from the other side of the camp, hearing Elladan raise his voice. Making his way over he caught hold of Elladan's shoulders and pulled him back to where Legolas still lay. He glanced back only once at Aragorn, and pitied the ranger the depth of sadness he saw in his eyes.

-

-

-

-

-

Jedi-Bant: Just his bow fingers. Index and middle on both hands... I'm sure I said that somewhere... meh...

-

Lady Janelly: You're my hero for this fic! Thanks so much for reviewing.


	13. Archery

Just been lucky enough to see a preview of 'House of Flying Daggers'. Unfortunately had an unappreciative audience, so I think I lost a little of the atmosphere (damn them), but it was fantastic. There is so much material in there that I would love to use. Little scenes that I love the picture of. If I could only take a snapshot and write it down... Ah well. Also, I think the three lead characters would have made awesome elves (Takeshi Kaneshiro (Jin) would have made an excellent twin, Andy Lau (Leo) would have rocked as Elrond, and Zhang Ziyi (Mei) would have been excellent as Arwen. Not that I'm complaining about the actors as they were... just... if...)

-

-

-

"Aragorn." The King of Gondor looked over his shoulder from Roheryn's back. He found his foster brothers and Legolas trailing the main group of the company as they had been for the last day. Roheryn danced a little on the spot, feeling his master's impatience and irritated that he was being held back.

"What is it, Elladan?" He called back. Elladan glanced once across at Elrohir, riding with Legolas sat... slumped before him on Cúdîn and Arod trailing behind riderless, and rode onwards through the group to Aragorn's side.

"You have need to return to your city, and get medical aid to those of your company who need it." Elladan said as he came near enough to talk with the man. "We will follow on behind at a slower pace. We will not enter the city more than two days behind you." Aragorn glanced back at the other two.

"Are you well? Is one of you hurt?"

"No, only we tire of the pace. We would take in a little of our surroundings." Aragorn frowned in scepticism. There was something more behind this suggestion, and if he had to guess it had something to do with the dejection that had been clear on Legolas' face since they had come across the orcs and his old tormentor. The truth of the Uruk's identity had only been dragged from him through the hard-headed persistence of the twins.

"These lands are still busy with orcs who have slipped through our nets. I cannot assure your safety. I would feel better if you were to ride with us." Elladan sighed.  
"Your return will be celebrated in Minas Tirith." Elladan continued, lowering his voice. "Legolas does not need such attentions, his confidence is weak at best, even more so now. Give us a little time to bolster his courage before he must meet with those who he fears the judgement of."

"None of us will judge him for his trials. Who does he fear?"

"You cannot swear this for all. Though I think he mostly fears Gimli, for their friendship was tenuous at best before they were parted. He still denies that he thinks anything of the dwarf, or holds any sway in what the dwarf thinks of him. But his eyes say otherwise."

"I cannot swear for Gimli, but the hobbits have seen trials enough of their own to judge, and are too kind of heart to turn him away."

"All the same..."

"Alright, take two of my guard with you. We will expect you two days after us, or else we will be sending out search parties." Aragorn could not help but smile in thought of who it was he was giving this lecture to, and a time not so long ago in elven years when it had been him receiving the lecture.

"We cannot take your men, a large number are injured and in need of care, you need as many able bodied as you can get to protect yourself and your lady."

"If you truly believed that then you would remain with us." Aragorn accused, joking.

"Say not that I said so, but I fear we are less than able ourselves right now. I fear we might drop everything to keep our charge safe these days."

"You came close to losing him, it is a terrifying prospect." Aragorn said, as one who knows the feeling, unconsciously glancing back at Arwen, seated comfortably on one of the horses that had been drawing the carriage. "Do not smother him, else he will never find his own feet to stand upon."

"Thank you, oh fount of wisdom." Elladan replied sarcastically, with one eyebrow raised in the mockery of his father. Aragorn simply rolled his eyes.

"How shall we part then, will you stop here while we ride on? Or will you wait until tonight's camp."

"We will stop here for a while, and follow on when we are rested. We will see you in a few days time." With a bow to his sister and a wave to Aragorn, Elladan returned to the rear of the column and the three stopped behind, moving off the path into the foliage to take a little rest.

-

In truth, neither of the twins was in need of rest, but Legolas had not responded to any stimulus since after the attack and they were beginning to worry. They lowered him off the horse carefully - Elrohir sliding him down to Elladan, who laid him down on the floor at the base of a spindly pine tree. The road seemed lined with the evergreen trees, and the air was scented with pine. Elladan took a seat, pondering how they could get Legolas out of this despondent mood. Elrohir tended the horses, taking a moment to brush them down as they munched on the grass at the roadside. It was his own way of taking a moment to think, for he was truly beginning to run out of ideas, and he knew it would do nobody any good to have Legolas enter the city in his current state. Sighing, Elrohir moved back towards the other two. Elladan had taken a seat behind Legolas with his knees drawn up and his chin resting on them, close enough to reach out and touch him, and yet not touching.

Elrohir lay down alongside Legolas - who was still where he had been placed earlier, on the ground on his side - feeling the give of the soft pine needles beneath him. Resting his head on one arm, he reached out with the other to pull a strand of long blond hair away from the face in front of him. Blue eyes shifted away, not meeting his gaze. Stung, Elrohir stifled a wince at his reaction. He glanced up to find Elladan watching his actions with soft eyes.

"We could go home now. Ride back to Rivendell. It would take only a moment to find a traveller to take a message to Minas Tirith."

"Perhaps it _was_ too quick." Elladan conceded, sighing. Elrohir looked back down at Legolas and was baffled to find silent tears streaming down his face.

"Hush, melethron." He soothed, moving closer to cup his face in his hand and wipe away the tears with his thumb. "This is no problem, we will return again later, when we are better prepared." Elladan moved a little closer, resting one hand on the shoulder nearest him. He squeezed softly as the shoulder under his hand shook with suppressed tears.

"Let it out, Love. It does you no good trapped inside." His breathing hitched a little at this and a sob escaped him. Gently lifting him from the ground so that he sat propped between their shoulders, the twins held Legolas as he sobbed his woe to the woodlands. Finally emptied, feeling wrung out and tired, Legolas simply absorbed the warmth of the double embrace as his breathing calmed.

"I'm sorry." He managed eventually.

"Why do you apologise when you have done no wrong?" Elladan demanded, voice soft and tone joking. "I grow tired of it, we shall begin taking a forfeit I think, to curb you of the habit."

"What forfeit would you suggest, brother?" Elrohir asked, glad that the tone had been lightened a little, and Legolas' grief and apathy along with it.

"I think a kiss." Elladan replied, after a little thought.

"That sounds a grand idea. But which of us would receive it? I might grow jealous, brother, if you were to take them all."

"Ah, you are right. Two then, one each... And one shared." Leaning around Legolas, Elladan brushed Elrohir's lips lightly with a kiss.

"If you demand it of me." Legolas said with a comical sigh, only slightly spoiled by the hitching breath caused by the passing of his tears. A kiss landed first on one cheekbone, then the matching one on the other side. Elrohir started laughing, and found himself unable to stop as the other two joined him. There had been enough tears for the day.

-

-

Gimli sat in a high backed chair in the halls of the King Elessar, watching Aragorn thank his advisors thank him for allowing him a week's rest and for monitoring the situation with the city's reconstruction. The dwarf stood as he heard his name mentioned, and topics turned to praise for his kin who had come south with the soul purpose of aiding the city of Gondor. Some comments were also made regarding the dwarves' consumption of the cellars and the evening noise, but these were brushed over by the King with a wink in Gimli's direction.

Standing, Aragorn advanced and welcomed the dwarf with a wide smile. Not for the first time that day, Gimli wondered at the spark of joy that he had seen in the King's grey eyes every time he looked his way.

After all the formalities had been exchanged and a great deal of current affairs had been discussed, Gimli sought out the King in the courtyards of the newly restored outer walls, examining the fine detail on the expansive gates.

He dismissed the foreman who had been giving Aragorn the tour with a nod and turned to his friend.

"What are you hiding from us, King of men? From your words when you left, you half expected to find your elven brother on his deathbed, or already departed this world for the next. Can we assume from your good cheer that this was not the case?"

"Elrohir has been returned to full health despite his trials." Aragorn had to smile, for he had been greatly worried for Elrohir when Arwen brought news of his grief. How different the situation had been from what he had been expecting. Not that he could ever have expected the true events.

"And still that does not warrant the humour in your eyes when you drift into thought." Gimli grumbled.  
"We shall soon be receiving a visitor, Gimli, that I think you will be most happy to see." Aragorn answered, still smiling widely at the dwarf's mystification.

"Do not talk in riddles, man."

"Patience, Gimli. Patience."

-

-

They had been on the road back to Rivendell for three days, and it was proving more difficult than they had thought to find a messenger to take news to Aragorn. All of the people from the outer areas of the southern kingdom had travelled into the City for the coronation and were only now beginning to make their way back to their homes. Everyone was going in the wrong direction.

They set up a simple camp for the night, allowing the horses to graze and taking cover in the wide arms of an oak tree. The three settled quickly, the twins hanging their quivers and sword-belts from short branches so that they might relax more easily into the boughs.

Letting the dusk wash over them, the three listened to the soothing noises of a world settling down for the night. Birds landed smoothly in the nests around them, some in their own tree. Here and there, an eruption of noise signalled a nest of chicks greeting their parents home. A badger snuffled noisily in the undergrowth and a fox barked once in warning as the other nocturnal animal got a little close. A flutter of wings was a bat, its squeak loud in the relative silence.

Elrohir, chosen for first watch, struggled to remain awake as the other two slipped into reverie. He was drawn into sudden awareness, though, when all around him the world went silent. Placing a hand on Elladan's shoulder, and knowing that it would be enough to wake his brother, Elrohir slipped down a way onto the ground, searching for the cause of the disturbance amongst the creatures of the night.

Stilling, he listened. He could hear Elladan stirring Legolas above him, their breathing sounding loud and near in the quiet. A breath of wind shifted the trees around him and they sighed in reply. Then a foreign sound caught his attention. A pounding of feet on the ground, the rattle of metal armour. He leapt up to where the others waited.

"Orcs." He whispered. "Maybe ten. The trees and the wind have shielded their approach." Elladan handed Elrohir his sword, his own already strapped to his side.

"Hide or fight?"

"They are too close, we are too exposed here. We would be revealed." They looked as one at Legolas.

"You must stay here. We will draw them from the path before they are in sight." Legolas found himself holding his breath as the two disappeared from the branches around him. They headed first away from the path, and the orcs upon it, so that they could arc around and attack the troupe from the side.

It seemed a lifetime before sounds of the battle reached him, and he found his hands shaking in memory of a scene not so long ago. He fought against voicing the cries of his soul as it remembered.

But this time... this time he was not so weak. Not so defenceless. His eyes alighted upon the two bows, abandoned by the twins in favour of a closer fight with swords. There was a moment's indecision, but even as he grasped the bow centuries of training took over and his thoughts and panic faded to a distant buzz. He threw a quiver and bow over his shoulder and scrambled to the ground, knowing the movements held none of his old grace, so handicapped.

He dropped lightly the last short distance to the ground, taking the bow from its resting place and drawing the string from a pocket in the quiver, where it was kept for safety in an oiled rag. Stringing the bow took a couple of attempts, but single-mindedness won through and the bow was readied. Taking a handful of arrows from the quiver he stuck them in the ground beside him, going down on one knee to lessen the shaking he could feel through his whole body. He took a moment to practice picking them with the wrong three fingers and guiding them to the string. He was forced to adjust his bow hand to keep the bow from tipping out of balance, bringing his little finger around the back of the bow to keep it upright.  
He knew his position would be made as soon as he started firing and so he took his time, pushing the panicked buzz further back as it started to get louder. Her tried to pull the string back and cursed as he found the fingers tremendously lacking in strength - but he didn't have time to adjust the strength of the bow, he would just have to cope with being overbowed and make compensations for it. Picking up his arrows in a clumsy hand he moved to the edge of the trees that were concealing him, kneeling again at the edge of the trees to reduce the movement through the bow. Fitting an arrow uncomfortably to the string and adjusting his bow hand to allow for the changed angle of his hand to the grip, he looked out into the clearing, slowly breathing out as he examined the situation. Elladan and Elrohir were back to back with swords out, two orcs each. A fifth was creeping up from the side and with very little thought, Legolas drew as strongly as he could and let fly. The arrow fell short of the orc, but the second arrow was already in flight with the needed adjustment and hit the orc before he had discovered the origin of the first. Remembering the adjustment, three more arrows flew and two hit their mark as Elladan and Elrohir finished off the other two orcs. There was a moment's bafflement from the twins as the remaining orcs fell seemingly without cause. Elladan bent to pull an arrow from an orc, a frown of confusion clear on his face.  
"Brother, is this one of your arrows?" Elrohir was already headed to where Legolas was now sitting, the buzz of panic along with the adrenaline washing over him now that the danger had passed.

"Legolas?" Elladan laughed, rushing over to help Elrohir help him up. "Of course we would have known it was you straight away, only you missed with that first shot." He teased, sharing a slightly shocked glance with his brother.

"My apologies, I will try better in future." He winced as he stretched out his new string fingers, rubbing at his palm with his thumb as he tried to ease the tension of the unusual exertion. "Sweet Eru, that hurts. I need to get in a little more practice before I try that again." Elrohir slumped down behind him, his own adrenaline draining, and wrapped his arms around Legolas' shoulders, holding him tight.

"Welcome back." Elladan laughed.

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

Lady Janelly : Thanks hugely for all your help and ideas. Hope this was a good enough use of them all. ;)

-

Kitty : thanks very much for your review, your English is fabulous as its your second language.

-

Jedi-Bant : Ta

-

Sylive : hope this made it a bit better!


	14. Invitation

AN: I'm trying to think of a point in LotR where the fellowship find out that Legolas is the Prince of Mirkwood (he is introduced to the reader at the Council of Elrond, but not to the fellowship). The only one I can think of is Haldir's greeting - but that was said in elvish and wouldn't have been understood by the others. Gimli calls him a 'princeling' in the film, but there's no telling whether he was mocking or not (or whether it was simply a film invention ;) ). Correct me if I'm wrong, but I just think it would have come as a little of a surprise for the fellowship to find this out about him.

-

-

EPILOGUE

-

-

When three riders entered the city, three days after his well-received return, Aragorn would not have identified them as the three elves for whom he waited. So different in bearing did they appear, that his eyes brushed over their passage through the gates even as he gathered a small group of soldiers to search for the latecomers. Strong and bold did these riders appear, postures straight and heads held high. He assumed they were officials from other states, come to address the King. He was not so far off.

The stablehands looked bemused as they were offered three horses without reins to lead them by, but were spared the trouble as Arod and Cúdîn - remembering their last visit - went in search of food and stabling with Rochûl in close pursuit.

Asking for the King, the visitors were directed to the top of the great wall, where the King was addressing a small group of men, their would-be rescuers. Reaching the top of a long series of steps, they stood silent behind the King as he gave a quick description of the three they would be searching for. One soldier looked up and met Elrohir's eyes with a start. He held a delicate finger to his lips, a grin quirking his lips as the other two stifled laughter.

With a severe frown on his face, Aragorn turned to find out just what was so very funny... only to be faced with three wide grins.

"We thought we'd save you some trouble." Elladan said lightly.

"Is it safe to assume some great harm befell you all, and was the cause of your tardiness?"

"Ah yes... We came across some orcs... perhaps the best luck we've had for many months." Aragorn pondered this oxymoron for a moment.

"Thank you men. You're dismissed." He waved the soldiers away distractedly, leading the three towards the palace. He looked up, and met Legolas' eyes. "You look better." He told him softly.

"It's surprising how you can be ignorant of something's importance until you think it lost." Legolas smiled at Aragorn's confusion.

"Are you all planning on talking in riddles today? If so, I shall find someone else to take company in, for I will not stand for it."

"I _am_ better." Legolas offered, with one eyebrow raised. "Is that alright with you?"

"Glad to hear it." Aragorn paused. "It wouldn't have anything to do with you carrying Elrohir's bow, would it?"

-

The elf met the dwarf's gaze with trepidation, only to find the greatest of sorrows hidden there. He had no time to speak, for the dwarf enveloped him in an embrace, arms tight about his waist. He squeezed once and then stepped back, clearing his throat noisily.

"Well now laddie. You don't look too bad for a dead elf. What kept you so long? You missed all the best fighting." Three onlookers held their breath, uncertain whether Gimli's comment would be taken as scorn or as a jest as it was meant.

"I'm afraid I was distracted, Master Dwarf, else I would have rejoined you sooner."

"Just like an elf that, 'distracted'. Probably saw some flower or other..."

"Perhaps it would do you good to take a little time for flowers, Dwarf. They are the beginning of much which is beautiful in this world."

"Pah." The two were near nose to nose - as close as two beings so separated by height could get. Elladan edged closer to Aragorn, who was hiding a grin behind his hand.

"Should we not separate them?" He looked up at them in surprise.

"This is normal behaviour between them. I had not expected them to fall back into it so easily, but I suppose their friendship must be stronger than I thought."

"If this is friendship, I must redefine enmity." Elrohir observed from beside them.

-

Frodo watched Legolas in his quiet way, and Sam watched Frodo - for he was worried about over-stressing his master after his long ordeal. When it was suggested that he too had been through an ordeal, the gardener often shook off the concern with a world-wise smile.

"I was just there for Master Frodo." He would answer. "To help him along a little on his way."

In complete contrast to their kin's quiet observation, Meriadoc and Perrigrin were all over the returned elf, with as many questions as they could think of, all answered in truth and simplicity - bare facts which allowed the older and more world-wise Frodo fill in the missing details. Even having spent only a little time with the four small beings, Legolas could understand every word of what the twins had told him about the effects of the war on the hobbit's innocence.

Aragorn, Gimli and the twins appeared in the doorway and he greeted them with a smile and a nod as they filtered into the room, greeting the hobbits in turn.

A gasp from Merry brought everyone's attention back to Legolas and he flinched as he realised that the young hobbit had discovered the injury to his hands.

"It is not as bad as it might seem." He said, trying to hide his hands once more in his sleeves and searching for disgust in the eyes of his friends, old fears and insecurities. resurfacing.

"But how will you use your bow!?" Pippin asked, seeming quite upset by the sight.

"Need finds a way." Legolas replied softly. "Never fear." And with this assurance the hobbit's fear was quenched - for if he said so, it must be true. And so talk moved onto other things.

"Have you seen my scar?" Merry asked, with a light in his eyes. "It's most impressive, everyone says so." Legolas glanced up at Aragorn, whose eyes danced with laughter.

"You must show me, Master Hobbit. For if everyone says so, it must be so." And so, talk continued long into the night.

-

Gandalf arrived early on the fourth day after their arrival, Shadowfax bearing him lightly across the plains. Directed to the arms practice fields, he found a scene he had long thought never to see again. Legolas and Aragorn were challenging each other to an archery competition. The two stood side by side, observing the targets. At Elrohir's word, they stepped so that they were perpendicular to their targets, bows out and an arrow to the string, still held slack. A second word and two hands came back in unison and released, two shafts flying across the field. A dual thud.

All pair of eyes went to the targets except one. Gandalf knew what the score was, his attention was fixed on Legolas - eyes bright as he surveyed his win, stood tall with his bow at his side, one hand resting upon its solid arch. His string hand hung at his side, no longer concealed, no longer a shame to him. Two bands of white tape caught his fingers together in a position best for the pull and release that they were so unused to, meaning that they rested strangely at his side. Unaware of his observer, Legolas absentmindedly picked at the tape to release his fingers. Aragorn turned from his examination of the targets and cried out, Gandalf's presence finally revealed.

The Istar chuckled as the others gathered around him.

"I come with a message from King Thranduil of the Elven Kingdom of Mirkwood." He spoke at last, once all welcomes were done. Legolas stiffened almost imperceptibly and Gandalf met his eyes. "He would invite the fellowship to the funeral of Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, his son."

"A Prince?"

"A funeral?"

"Where's Mirkwood?" Came three questions at once. Legolas bit his lip and looked away from inquiring glances.

"No one has taken a message to Legolas' home in the north regarding his wellbeing. They think as we did, that he is dead." Aragorn answered two of them.

"But you are a Prince, Legolas? How did we never come to know this?"

"You had no need to know such a thing. It means little to me save that if my father were ever to pass I would become a boring person like him and take on much responsibility I have no wish for. Besides, you were travelling with a King, what is a prince beside that." Legolas gave a mock bow to Aragorn, but there was sadness in his eyes.

"You had better remember it, and perhaps allow me to win once or twice within my own lands." Aragorn joked. "But come, we must pack if we are to make it to Mirkwood in time."

"You intend to go to my funeral!?" Legolas asked, baffled.

"We all must go, to be polite. Though I think your father might wish most to see you."

"I don't know if..." He looked back and found Elrohir and Elladan at his shoulders. "What will he think of me?"

"Once he is done thinking you a ghost, he will surely be supremely proud. You are a hero in this war, Legolas. You survived what most cannot dream of. You must go home to him."

-

-

-

Only one more chapter guys...

-

-

-

-

Lady Janelly : Dunno if he would have used zinc oxide tape (climber's tape) to tape his fingers, but I had a play and ended up with a staggered position (meaning the ring finger was bent slightly in the tape) else the little finger doesn't touch the string. Makes it hard to straighten your fingers without shifting the tape, and aches like hell if you leave it there too long. Might have to look for a more long-term solution. :D I love research.

-

Blaise & Sylvie : Glad you liked the chapter. That one scene was part of the original planning, it's very rare that you get something from so early in the writing process in the final fic.

-

Kitty : Good enough?

-

Sesshyangel : Mwahaha... Corrupting fangirls, my favourite passtime...

-

-

-

-

-

-

http:www . sunion . warwick . ac . uk /socs/su134/Fancy/Photos/Spain2004/CIMG0086.jpg - had to share this. Take out the spaces for a demonstration of the proper use of climber's fingertape. ie: to stem the flow of blood whilst you're climbing.


	15. Homecoming

Yes, I know a two-part Epilogue is unorthodox, but that whole sequence of events wrote itself out as short insights, and I didn't want the same to happen for the very ending, Legolas' return to Mirkwood. The first little bit here should really have been in the other part, but it got forgotten, and was much too important to miss out. My bad.

Can I make it up to you by promising another story? It's already in the works. Keep an eye out for 'Imperfection', and while you're waiting go read the short 'You'll be in my arms' based on the RotK Annie Lennox song and tell me who _you_ think the pairing is. - (Shameless plugs)

Gold star for Sesshyangel. I'm from England, hence the spelling...

-

-

-

"Somebody looks like the cat that got the cream." Gimli muttered to no one in specific as Elrohir strolled in, late, for breakfast. The elf thanked the maid as she laid out a pastry and juice for him and disappeared back into the corner of the room. Moments later, Gimli was forced to splutter his juice over the table as Elladan, who had entered just after his brother, proceeded to kiss Elrohir soundly across the table.

"Gentlemen." Aragorn scolded. Two pairs of grey eyes met his own. "Not at the breakfast table." With a sulky look, Elladan took a seat beside his brother and whispered something in his ear that made him laugh out loud.

"Will Legolas be joining us for breakfast?" Arwen asked, her eyes dancing with laughter at her brother's antics.

"No, I fear he is much too tired." Elladan answered, mock-seriously.

"Yes, we did keep him up rather late." Elladan's façade wavered, and cracked at Elrohir's comment. Aragorn rolled his eyes as they sought calm once more.

"So much for the dignity of elves." He muttered to Arwen, who hid her grin behind one hand.

"Something tells me the cream was particularly good last night, Master Dwarf." Frodo spoke, unable to contain a chortle of laughter at the expression on the dwarf's face.

-

-

People were flowing into the city from the surrounding woods as the call for the gathering went out. Never before had there been so many of his people in the centre of his kingdom. The King watched with a heavy heart as his people - so war-torn and segmented - came together in the new found peace. Celeborn, Lord of the Golden Wood, stood at his shoulder - a step behind him in respect to his position in his own home. The alliance that had been drawn up between the long-estranged forests would ensure peace between the two as Lórien faded and its people moved into the more northern wood. As a sign of respect the Lord had chosen to stay for the wood's last words to its fallen prince.

Elves of all kinds stood in the clearing - the largest open space in all of Mirkwood. Silvan and Sindar and fragments of other cultures long scattered, they stood together in mourning. Already line upon line of graves stood in silent testament to the many hundreds that had fallen as Dol Guldur had opened its gates. At their head, a single grave lay still open. Dol-en-Ernil, it stood upon a rise as a leader to those already interred. Here the Great Elven leaders stood and watched the gathering grow around them.

With such a crowding of people, it was not so surprising that a small number were lost amongst them, especially when five were so small and one was cloaked in darkness. A small stir was caused by Gimli's presence, but any ill-thought comments were stilled by others; reminding them of the word brought by Gandalf. The fellowship had caused great friendship to grow between the strangest of war-brothers, he had said. Hobbits had brought their salvation to them, and dwarves and men and Istar had fought alongside their prince until he had fallen, his body never to be returned.

-

Legolas walked through the crowd as though in a dream. The twin's hands on his shoulders kept him on track at they wandered through the crowds, his eyes on the ground to avoid his identity being revealed. The twins had concocted some great plan, but he found his determination wavering as he longed to look up and meet his father's eyes. But no, it would do no good. The plan would be kept, for in it he knew he would have the best chance to talk to his father before the crowd erupted.

Silence descended as King Thranduil raised his arms.

"Hurry." Legolas whispered to the twins, knowing he would need to get into position before the speech started. They left the others behind in the crowd, surging onwards to the rear fore of the crowd and circling around behind the King.

-

King Thranduil took a moment to compose himself as the elves fell silent around him. Only the noise of the trees was left, and it was soothing to him. Autumn was bringing a hint of yellow and red to their leaves and each breath of wind brought a spiralling descent. He took a breath.

_" Ai! laurië lantar lassi súrinen,_

_yéni únótimë ve rámar aldaron!_

_Yéni ve lintë yuldar avánier_

_mi oromardi lisse-miruvóreva_

_Andúnë pella Vardo tellumar_

_nu luini yassen tintilar i eleni_

_ómaryo airetári-lírinen._

__

_Sí man i yulma nin enquantuva?_

__

_An sí Tintallë Varda Oiolossëo_

_ve fanyar máryat Elentári ortanë,_

_ar ilyë tier undulávë lumbulë;_

_ar sindanóriello caita mornië_

_i falmalinnar imbe met, ar hísië_

_untúpa Calaciryo míri oialë._

_Sí vanwa ná, Rómello vanwa, Valimar!_

__

_Namárië! Nai hiruvalyë Valimar._

_Nai elyë hiruva. Namárië!"_

__

The King looked out at his people, and saw their sorrow. "Valar protect the son taken from me. Take him to your breast and nurture him, for he is gone from my protection. Let him bide awhile in your halls, Oh Mandos, for his soul will be weary. Let him meet again with his mother, whom we both lost so young. Let him live with his people, for in their presence he has always been Prince and Lord." Thranduil's composure seemed to crumple, if only for a moment, and one single tear escaped his eye. He held himself tall as the wind carried the cries of his people to him. But he would be strong for them. The wind carried Celeborn from his side, and replaced him with another cloaked in darkness. Cloaked in the material of Lórien.

"My father." This shade whispered, voice roughened with tears. "Mourn me not overly soon, I would have a little more time at your side." He turned slowly, torturously slowly it seemed for the one stood at his shoulder.

"My son." The words were cracked and broken with emotion. "May this not be some spell, some trickery. I would have you here by my side."

"Then here I will be."

-

-

(And they all lived happily ever after. The End.)

-

-

-

-  
-

Song can be found in the Fellowship of the Rings, in the chapter 'Farewell to Lothlórien' with a translation. Also listen carefully in the extended Fellowship, I've been told Galadriel sings it there as well. (poor old me, only with the standard edition. Bummer)

Simply put, it talks of the leaving of Valinor, and of those who might make it back one day. As Thranduil is Sindar and never passed over the sea, he shouldn't really be the one singing... but hey... artistic licence.

-

-

-

Split persona, Laebeth, Iridia, Lady Janelly, legolaslover, Deb, Blaise, Jedi-Bant, kel, sylvie, Kitty and Sesshyangel - Thanks SO MUCH for your support and reviews. You guys rock.


End file.
